Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 01]

by The Icecutters Daughter

  “There you are,” Corabeth said, coming through the door. “What can I do to help?” She crossed the kitchen and took up the bread basket. “Shall I put this on the table? Is the butter already out there?”

  “Yes,” Merrill said, sorry she wouldn’t be able to speak more with Svea. She gave Svea an apologetic shrug. “Why don’t you take the ham out, and I’ll get the rest.”

  Svea started to do as Merrill suggested, but stopped. “Look, I want to say something.” She bit her lower lip for a moment. “I know that Rurik loves you.”

  It was Merrill’s turn to feel awkward. “Yes.”

  “And you love him.”

  Merrill nodded. “Yes.”

  For a moment Svea said nothing, but then she added, “I’m glad.”

  “You are?” Merrill asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

  “I am. Our parents had arranged our betrothal, but it was never right.” Svea shrugged. “I do love Rurik, but not like you. He’s like a brother to me. When he said he felt that way about me . . . I was . . . well, at first upset and then relieved. Rurik is a good man, much better than I knew, in fact.”

  Corabeth came back to see how she could help. Merrill quickly handed her two bowls. Thankfully, Corabeth seemed to understand and hurried from the room.

  “I’m really sorry, Merrill,” Svea said, picking up the ham. “I want you to know that I think you and Rurik are perfect for each other. You’re the woman he has always wanted and needed . . . someone who wants to stay in one place and raise a family.”

  “But that’s not for you?” Merrill asked.

  Svea shrugged again. “Maybe one day, but for now I think I’d like to see more of the world or at least this country. There’s so much out there I’ve only read about . . . places I want to see and experience. Rurik never wanted to travel or go far from home. Yet here he is in Minnesota.” She shrugged with a little smile.

  “I suppose his love for Uncle Carl was stronger than his desire to remain in Kansas,” Merrill replied.

  “And I suppose his love of you will be strong enough to keep him here for the rest of his life,” Svea countered with another smile.

  “I hope so,” Merrill said, knowing that nothing would please her more.

  Corabeth popped her head around the kitchen door. “Zadoc just got here.” Her excitement was fully evident, and Merrill couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “He said to tell you he’s half starved and his stomach is rubbing up against his backbone,” Cora said merrily.

  “Is that all?” Merrill took up another bowl mounded high with whipped potatoes.

  “No. He said if you didn’t get a move on, he would get Grandpa to say grace and eat without you.”

  Merrill looked to Svea and motioned her to the door. “By all means, we’d best hurry. Once Grandpa Lassiter prays, it’ll be every man and woman for themselves.”

  Rurik stood in the lobby with his brother and Mr. Olsson. He and Aron had escorted the Olssons back to the hotel, and with Svea already upstairs, Mr. Olsson wanted a word with the Jorgenson brothers.

  “I have no idea where Nils might be or when he might return. I wonder if you have any thoughts on the matter.” He looked with unspoken hope to Rurik.

  “I don’t, Mr. Olsson. Not really. Uncle Carl mentioned that Nils talked about wanting to go to Mankato. It’s not that far away—especially by train. Svea said he had only planned to be gone overnight, so unless he really had designs to go elsewhere or has gotten himself . . .” Rurik let the words trail off momentarily. “Have you asked the authorities?”

  “I did. They’re trying to check it out. They said they’d send out word and check with the depot master. I was hoping maybe you would have another idea.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  The older man nodded. “I was angry at him, but I never thought he or Svea would leave Lindsborg. And I never expected he’d sink so low as to force his sister to lie in order to marry you. I wanted him to be a man and admit to his wrongdoing, make things right. Now I might never see him again.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be back,” Aron interjected.

  “I told him to get out and stay out until he was ready to make amends.” Mr. Olsson didn’t seem to even hear the comforting words. He looked at the hat in his hands. “He stole from me, and when I found out about it . . . well . . . I was rather rash.”

  Rurik exchanged a look with his brother, then put his hand on Mr. Olsson’s shoulder. “Gambling does strange things to folks. It’s not unlike what happens with those that drink. A little seems to do no harm, but then it turns into just a little more, and soon there are all kinds of problems. Maybe when Nils returns we can talk with him and offer to help.”

  Mr. Olsson looked to Rurik and for a moment his eyes filled with tears. “You’ve always been a good friend to my boy. I would have liked to have had you for a son-in-law.” Rurik started to say something, but Olsson held up his hand. “I know that it wasn’t right to try to force you to marry my Svea. I can see that you are in love with Miss Krause. I’m not trying to make trouble for you, Rurik. I just wanted you to know that I would have been proud to have you in the family.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Olsson glanced toward the stairs. “As much as I’m worried about Nils, I need to get home.”

  “I promise you that I’ll continue to keep an eye out for Nils. He’s still my friend, and I will do what I can to help him.”

  “We’ll stay around another day or two, but then Svea and I must return to Kansas. I can’t leave the others to tend the dairy without me.” Mr. Olsson looked to Aron. “What about you?”

  “I’ll need to return, as well. The fields need to be prepared and crops planted,” Aron added. “Let’s plan to go together as we originally thought to do.”

  “That would suit me,” the man replied, sounding as if his strength was giving out. “I only hope Nils will return before we go. I hate to leave things as they are between us.”

  Chapter 26

  After making sure Carl was fed and settled in the front room with the paper, Merrill made her way to the furniture shop the next morning to do a bit of painting. Carl had promised her he’d do nothing more strenuous than read and doze, and Aron promised he’d watch out for the older man while she was out.

  Rurik looked very happy to find her painting. He pretended to closely inspect what she was doing. “You are quite skilled, Miss Krause. I’m glad to see you have finally returned to your duties here.” He moved to within inches of where she was working.

  She held up a brush dripping red with paint. “I wouldn’t come too close if I were you. I might accidentally stain your clothes.” She grinned and hoped he might try to steal a kiss.

  “This shirt and pants are old,” he said with a shrug. “Work clothes. They’re meant to get dirty or stained.” He studied her face for a moment, and Merrill lowered the paintbrush. He started to reach out to touch her cheek, then stopped. “Still, you’re probably right.”

  She was disappointed as Rurik chuckled and moved away. “We’ve a good many pie safes ready for you to paint. I’ll have the boys bring them in here today.”

  Merrill turned her attention back to the job at hand and painted rosy apples on a small kitchen box. She’d barely been working ten minutes when the police chief came into the room from the far door.

  Eyeing the lawman, Merrill smiled. “What brings you here?”

  “Not good news, I’m afraid. Where’s Mr. Jorgenson?”

  “Rurik or Carl?”

  “Rurik. I wouldn’t want to burden his uncle with this news.”

  Dread washed over her, and Merrill quickly put her brush on the workbench. “I’ll get him. Wait here.”

  She found Rurik hard at work on a dining room table. “The police chief is here,” she told him, keeping her voice low. “He needs to talk to you, and it doesn’t sound good. He’s in the painting room.”

  Rurik left his work and Merrill followed him, her heart beating
her fear.

  “Morning,” Rurik said in greeting. “Merrill said there’s a problem.”

  “Nils Olsson has been found. I’m afraid he was badly beaten.”

  “Is he alive?” Rurik asked quickly.

  “Barely,” the police chief replied. “Some folks traveling into Waseca found him alongside the road. They brought him here to the doctor, but his outlook is grim.”

  Merrill put her hand to her mouth to keep herself quiet. The thought of Nils dying had never entered her mind. She began to pray for his recovery.

  Rurik was unfastening his apron. “Do Mr. Olsson and Svea know?”

  “I thought to get you first. I hoped you’d come with me to break the news.”

  Rurik nodded. “I want to be there for them.” He looked back to Merrill. “Will you tell Aron and Uncle Carl what’s happened?”

  “I will. Please tell Svea and Mr. Olsson that we’ll be praying.”

  “Ja.”

  Merrill hurried to put away her things, then made her way to the house to share the news.

  Aron immediately put on his coat. “I’ll go see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  Merrill looked to Uncle Carl, who hadn’t said a word. “Can I get you anything?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just sit with me awhile. Did they say who did this terrible thing to Nils?”

  Merrill took the chair beside his bed. “No. Only that some folks passing by found him alongside the road.”

  Carl leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes. “We should pray for Nils.”

  “I promised Rurik we would.” She took hold of the older man’s hand and closed her eyes.

  The days passed slowly, and Rurik did what he could to relieve Mr. Olsson and Svea from their bedside vigil. He’d never seen a man so badly beaten. The doctor said that whoever had done this had obviously meant to kill him. Still, Nils clung to life.

  Sending Mr. Olsson and Svea to get some lunch, Rurik took his customary seat beside Nils’s bed and opened his Bible to read aloud. “‘This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.’”

  Rurik looked at his longtime friend a moment, then continued to read from Lamentations three. “‘It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon him. He putteth his mouth in the dust; if so be there may be hope. He giveth his cheek to him that smiteth him: he is filled full with reproach. For the Lord will not cast off for ever: But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies.’”

  “Mer . . . cies.”

  Nils’s voice was barely audible, but Rurik clearly understood the single word. “Nils?” Rurik leaned over as the beaten man tried to open his swollen eyes.

  He looked at Rurik for several moments, then closed his eyes again. “Water.”

  Rurik went for the pitcher and called to the doctor at the same time. “Dr. Hickum, Nils is waking up!”

  The doctor quickly entered the room. Rurik held up a glass of water. “He wanted a drink. Is that all right?”

  “Just take a cloth and dampen his lips for now. I need to evaluate the situation.”

  Rurik did as the doctor instructed and touched the wet cloth to Nils’s lips. He rewet it and repeated the action while Dr. Hickum examined Nils.

  “What . . . happened?” Nils asked between battered lips and missing teeth.

  “Do you not remember anything?” the doctor asked.

  “No,” Nils said, trying to shake his head. The pain was clearly too great.

  Rurik frowned. “Someone beat you, Nils. They nearly killed you. They beat you and left you for dead alongside the road.”

  “Where . . . where . . .” Nils fought to speak, but it was clearly taking its toll. His eyes closed.

  “You need to be quiet,” the doctor instructed. “Your injuries are great, Mr. Olsson.”

  “Hurt . . . I hurt.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do,” the doctor replied. “I’ll give you something to help with the pain.”

  He left the room and Rurik leaned forward. “Nils, don’t you dare die on me.”

  Nils opened his eyes and fixed them upon Rurik before closing them again. “Always . . . tellin’ me,” he said with a gasp, “what . . . to do.”

  Rurik smiled. “And this time you’d better listen.”

  The doctor returned and managed to get two spoonsful of medicine down Nils’s throat. “This will help with the pain. I’ll let the authorities know you’ve regained consciousness, but it will be a while before you’ll have the strength to tell them much.” He looked at Rurik. “Will you remain with him?”

  “Yes.”

  The doctor placed the spoon on a table by the door. “I won’t be long.”

  Rurik looked again to Nils’s swollen face. “I wish I knew what happened and why someone would do this terrible thing.” He wasn’t really talking to Nils, but his friend reopened his eyes.

  “Don’t know.”

  “I know. You said as much.” Rurik gave Nils’s hand a pat. “Don’t worry about it. Your father is doing everything he can to learn the truth.”

  “My . . . father?” Nils stared at Rurik. “He hates me.”

  “Hardly. He’s barely left your side since they brought you in. The only reason he isn’t here right now is that I sent him and Svea to get something to eat.”

  “He’s . . . here?”

  “Yes. He came to see you and Svea. He was worried about you.”

  “No. I . . . I . . .” Nils blinked his eyes several times and finally closed them. “I . . . hurt him.”

  “I know. But he loves you, Nils.”

  “My boy is awake?” Mr. Olsson was hurrying into the room. “He is conscious?”

  Rurik nodded. “But very weak.”

  Svea cried softly, leaning against the door of the room. Rurik moved aside for Mr. Olsson to take his chair.

  Tears rolled down the weathered cheeks of the older man. “Oh, Nils. Oh, my boy. God be praised.”

  The April days warmed considerably, and Carl was able to get up for short walks each day. Rurik was grateful for the additional time with his uncle, but knew it wouldn’t last long. Carl no longer even pretended to have the strength for his previous duties. Dr. Hickum told Rurik that he doubted Carl had more than a few months to live. Still, it was precious time to Rurik.

  With Nils on the mend, Svea and her father had returned home, along with Rurik’s brother. The Olssons had wanted to stay longer, but Rurik had assured them Nils would have good care and promised to send word letting them know of Nils’s progress. His recovery would take some time. His injuries included several broken ribs, a broken leg, and multiple bruises—the worst being the blows he’d taken to his head. He still had no memory of the attack.

  Mr. Olsson and Nils made their peace, and the moment had touched Rurik deeply. It was as if the story of the prodigal son had come to life. Nils confessed his wrongdoings and begged his father’s forgiveness, while Mr. Olsson wept and declared his undying love. It gave Rurik hope for Nils’s future.

  “You’re looking much better,” Rurik said, entering Nils’s sickroom. Nils was nearly sitting up in the bed, leaning against a pillow.

  “Dr. Hickum says I’ll be able to leave in another few days. Not sure where I’m going to go, however.”

  “You’re going to stay with us,” Rurik said, taking a seat beside the bed. “With that broken leg, you won’t be able to climb the stairs at our place, but Uncle Carl suggested I put a bed for you in the front room. We’ll be crowded, but well fed. Merrill is still helping out with the meals.”

  Nils smiled. “Y
ou ought to marry her.”

  “I plan to,” Rurik said with a nod. “So have you remembered anything more?”

  “No. I wish I could.”

  Rurik considered all that his friend had endured. “Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t.”

  “I want to know who did this to me. I do remember going to Mankato to play cards. I’d heard about a game.” He shook his head. “Can’t remember who told me. I just knew I needed to play.”

  “Needed or wanted?”

  Nils looked at Rurik with a grave expression. “Needed. It drives me, Rurik. It’s like something in my blood.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I’m no good at it, so you wouldn’t think I’d keep going back.”

  “I want to help you,” Rurik told him.

  “I don’t think you can. I don’t think anyone can.”

  “God can. The Bible says nothing is impossible for Him.”

  Nils was quiet for a moment. “I dishonored my father. I stole from him and from your uncle. Can God really forgive that?”

  “Of course He can,” Rurik replied. “The question is, do you want Him to? Are you willing to repent and sin no more?”

  “I want to, but I just don’t know if I can.” His face darkened. “I don’t know how to fight this, Rurik. Even now I keep thinking about cards and when I might play again. How can God forgive me when I can’t even stop thinking about it?” He sat forward, intensity filling his expression and his body.

  Rurik thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose it will be easy,” he finally said. “I do know that you’ll destroy yourself and all those around you, however, if you don’t stop. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Nils. I don’t want this all to end in your death. It nearly did this time.”

  Nils leaned back in the bed. For a long while he said nothing, and Rurik thought it might be best to leave and let Nils contemplate the matter on his own.

  He got up to go, and Nils reached out his hand. “Rurik, do you forgive me for what I did?”

  “Are you asking me to?”

  Nils nodded. “I am.”

  Rurik smiled. “That’s good, because I already did. Still, a fellow likes to know forgiveness is desired.”