Tracie Peterson, Tracey V. Bateman, Pamela Griffin, JoAnn A. Grote

by Prairie Christmas Collection

  1 package yeast

  3 T. sugar

  3 egg yolks

  1 cup warm milk

  4 cups flour

  1 tsp. salt

  1 cup butter

  Dissolve together yeast, sugar and ½ cup warm milk; set aside. Next, beat together egg yolks and ½ cup warm milk; set aside. Mix together flour, salt, and butter (this will be like pie crust). Add the yeast and egg yolk mixtures and mix well. Set in a cool place overnight.

  3 egg whites

  ½ cup sugar

  Handful of nuts, dates, or raisins, if desired Oven at 3500F

  1 tsp. cinnamon

  In the morning, divide into two portions and roll out thin. Mix 3 stiffly beaten egg whites with sugar and cinnamon and spread this on top of the dough. Sprinkle with nuts, dates, or raisins. Roll lengthwise and shape in a ring. Rise 1 hour or until doubled. Bake at 3500F for 20 minutes. Frost with 3/4 cup powdered sugar blended with cream.

  Erik sat in the cafe nursing his third cup of coffee. For longer than he cared to remember, he’d been coming here for meals instead of going to the Larsson house. He felt it was only fair to give Sigrid her head. She was going to have to decide for herself if he meant anything to her—anything more than friends and workers of the same ground.

  Putting the cup down, Erik decided it was time to return to the fields. But just as he reached for his hat, the unmistakable voice of Ruben Carter sounded from the now open cafe door.

  “Come on, Hank, I’ll treat you to lunch and tell you where things stand.”

  Erik froze in place, wondering if he should confront Ruben with his concern for Sigrid. He wanted badly to warn the man to leave her alone, but it wasn’t his place and so he held himself in check.

  Ruben, clearly oblivious to anyone else in the cafe, took the booth directly behind Erik and continued his conversation. Never one to set out to eavesdrop, Erik couldn’t help himself when Ruben brought up the subject of Sigrid and the farmstead.

  “I figure if I can get her to marry me before Christmas,” Ruben told his companion, “I can get her to sign over without too much difficulty.”

  “You mean you’ll keep her so otherwise occupied she won’t have time to worry about land, don’t ya?” the man said with a dirty laugh.

  Ruben chuckled. “Well, that will be one of the benefits of this whole scheme. She’s not that bad to look at, although she’s the same as the rest of these dirt-dumb farmers. She’s actually happy to live here and wants to stay in Lindsborg.”

  “Maybe that’ll change after you propose.”

  “I proposed yesterday,” Ruben admitted.

  Erik hadn’t realized how hard he was gripping the coffee mug until his hand started to ache. He put the cup down and tried to refrain from jumping to his feet. He couldn’t confront Ruben here. Not this way. Not now.

  “Did she say yes?” the other man was now questioning.

  “Not exactly, but I did my best to persuade her. If you know what I mean.”

  They laughed in a way that left Erik little doubt that Ruben had probably handled the matter in a most inappropriate way. But, he knew Sigrid, and he felt confident that she had probably put Ruben in his place in spite of what the man said to his friend.

  “Sigrid will come around, and when she does,” Ruben continued, “the land will be ours.”

  “I thought you had a deal with that brother of hers. Seems a sorry state of affairs that you should have to hitch yourself up with her in order to get the land.”

  “Her brother’s willing to sell me the place, but he hates hurting Sigrid. I tried to play it smooth, let him think I understood his compassion. I let it drop and figured I’d work on Sigrid. If I can talk her into marriage, I shouldn’t have any trouble getting her to give up the farm. After all, I made it clear that Kansas City could offer us both a great deal in the way of comfort and charm. After a couple of months there, I’ll send her home to her brother. Then she can have her farm town and the railroad can have their depot and roundhouse.”

  “You mean divorce her?”

  “Of course. I don’t intend to stay married to someone like her,” Ruben said in a voice that suggested how unthinkable such a matter could be. “Imagine trying to take her to New York. She could never hope to fit into my social circle. No, I’ve spent enough time listening to her stories of Swedish traditions and love of the land. I’ll be glad to knock the dust of this town off my feet once and for all.”

  “But you’ll have a good time with her first, I hope,” the man said in a much lowered voice.

  Ruben laughed. “Of course. I don’t mind sampling country cooking, I just don’t want it for the rest of my life.”

  The men laughed while Erik seethed. He wanted to punch Carter square in the nose, but more than that, he wanted to run to Sigrid and hide her away like a precious gem. How dare Carter talk of using her and then divorcing her! How would Sigrid ever live with the shame of such a thing?

  The waitress came to serve the two men, and with her keeping them both completely occupied, Erik slipped out the back door of the cafe. He struggled to know what he should do. On one hand, if he went to Sigrid and told her the truth, she might not believe him. She might think that he was only speaking out of a jealous heart or worse yet, that he only wanted to keep her from giving Ruben the land.

  “Lord,” he whispered, stepping into the dusty alley, “this isn’t an easy situation to be in. I don’t know what to do to protect Sigrid.” He paused and glanced heavenward with a smile. “But then again, I don’t need to protect her when You’re already on the job.”

  He walked down the alley and around the building, continuing to pray. She needs to be kept safe, Lord. I don’t know if I should tell her what I overheard, or leave it be. You know the answers, and You have a better picture of the truth than I do. What should I do?

  Erik paused beside the general store and looked down Main Street at their little town. He loved it here and he knew Sigrid loved it as well. The land and the community was as much a part of him as anything could possibly be, and he couldn’t imagine his life in any way that didn’t include living in Lindsborg.

  Feeling his turmoil only moderately relieved, Erik sighed and made his decision. If she asks me straightforward for the truth, I’ll tell her. Otherwise, I won’t volunteer anything.

  Moving down the street, another even more compelling thought came to mind. What I need to do is ensure that she doesn’t marry Ruben Carter. He smiled to himself. I just need to convince her that she should marry me instead of him. Then his smile faded. Never having been one for romancing and courting women, especially given the fact that his eye had been on Sigrid for more than a decade, Erik wondered exactly how he should go about it.

  As if on cue, Sigrid appeared—basket in hand—heading toward the general store. Erik swallowed hard. She looked wonderful. Her cheeks were rosy from the chill in the air and her eyes were bright and searching. He stepped out of the shadows and smiled, hoping she would smile in return—praying she wouldn’t give him a cold shoulder.

  “Erik!” she exclaimed, seeming surprised, but genuinely happy to see him. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  The ease in which she spoke put Erik’s pounding heart at rest. “I went to help Sven with the broomcorn.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding as if understanding some great mystery. “Have you finished?”

  “Yes.”

  The silence hung between them for several moments. “Have you come to town for something in particular?” Erik finally asked.

  “Oh, you know, the usual holiday things. With Advent, St. Lucia’s Day, and all that goes with Christmas, I don’t dare run out of sugar and flour. Not with all of my nieces and nephews to bake for. Oh, and I need some almonds. At least one almond,” she said as if trying to burn it into memory.

  Erik smiled. “Ah, making Risgrynsgrot?” He spoke of the favorite rice pudding that was always found at any Swedish Christmas celebration. The trick was to mix in one whole almond
and whoever found it in their portion of pudding was said to be the next one to marry or have good fortune.

  “Yes, that and about a hundred other things.” She smiled and her blue eyes lit up as an idea appeared to come to her. “Say, if you aren’t busy, why don’t you come for dinner tonight. I’m trying out a new recipe for jast krans and I’d love for you to tell me what you think of it.”

  Erik felt his breathing quicken. It was as if their last meeting had never happened. She beamed her smile and talked as friendly and openly as she’d ever talked to him before. She was beautiful and charming and everything he longed for. Why couldn’t she see that his love for her was sincere? “I’d like to come for dinner,” he finally answered in a low, steady voice.

  “Good. I’ll see you at the usual time then.” She turned to go into the general store, but Erik reached out to touch her arm.

  “I … uh …”

  “Yes?” She looked up at him, her eyes widening.

  Erik felt unsure of himself. “It’s just that, well.” What could he say? What should he say—that he missed her? That a moment didn’t pass by during the day that he wasn’t thinking of her? “Thanks for the invitation.”

  She nodded, and for a moment Erik almost thought he read disappointment in her eyes. Had she expected him to say something more?

  He let her go and stared at the door to the general store for several minutes before ambling down the street. Where do I go from here? he wondered. He wondered, too, at her good mood and her pleasantries. Then a thought came unbidden to his mind. Maybe Carter’s proposal had brought this about. Maybe her joy centered around contemplating a lifetime as the wife to Ruben Carter.

  Erik frowned and his optimism faded. Maybe her invitation for dinner had been given in order to break the news to him. What if she announced that she planned to accept Carter’s proposal? Erik felt his stomach tighten and begin to churn. There had to be some way to convince her that he loved her.

  Tell her that you love her, his heart told him. Sit her down and tell her the truth? It was almost too much to think about, and Erik did the only thing that felt right and comfortable. He found his horse and went back to work.

  Later that night, after a quiet dinner with Sigrid, Erik found himself no closer to revealing the truth of his heart to her. She had presented him with a wonderful meal, but had gone to no special lengths to entertain him. She talked of her sister Ina and the baby that was on the way. She asked him if he would keep an eye on the house for her as she planned to spend the next few weeks with her sister.

  “With the baby due,” she had told Erik, “Ina isn’t up to the usual holiday cooking. I promised I’d come lend a hand, and since she is on the other side of town, I thought I’d just as well stay on at her place.”

  Before he knew it, Erik had agreed to care for her livestock and watch over the house, but he hadn’t found the right opportunity in which to share his heart. Kneeling beside his bed in prayer, Erik found a restlessness inside that would not be ignored.

  “Father, help me,” he murmured. “Help me to win her heart.”

  Chapter 9

  LUSSEKATTER

  St. Lucia Buns

  2 pkgs. active dry yeast

  3/4 cup sugar

  ½ cup softened butter

  1 tsp. salt

  ½ tsp. powdered saffron (dissolved in 2 tsp. of milk)

  ½ cup dark raisins (optional)

  1 cup milk, scalded

  6 cups flour

  2 eggs

  1 tsp. ground cardamom

  ½ cup blanched almonds (ground)

  3/4 cup lukewarm water

  Soften yeast in lukewarm water. Dissolve thoroughly and add milk and sugar. Beat in 2 cups of the flour until mixture is smooth. Add butter, eggs, salt, raisins, almonds, cardamom, and saffron. Mix well. Add remaining flour and knead until dough is smooth and elastic.

  Place dough in greased bowl, cover and let rise approximately 1½ hours. Punch down and let rise again for 30 to 40 minutes. Shape into various Lucia bun forms (description contained in chapter) and let rise for another 15 to 20 minutes. Bake at 3500F for 10 to 12 minutes. Makes 30 to 40 buns.

  It was already December 12th, and with the celebration honoring St. Lucia being tomorrow, Sigrid would need to hurry to have the St. Lucia buns ready for the holiday. Pulling the dough from where it had risen, Sigrid began to form the buns into a variety of shapes.

  First she made the priest locks or judge’s wigs, as some called them. These were long thin strips, rolled in hand and shaped on top of each other until it resembled the old powdered wigs that magistrates wore in court. Each strip was curled up at the end to touch the curl above it. Next, Sigrid formed Christian crosses and Bethlehem stars. Then, just to keep with Swedish tradition, she made a great many buns in the shape of the Julbock, the Christmas Goat. Legend claimed that the goat would bring Christmas toys to good Swedish children. Straw replicas of the Julbock could be found in most of the Lindsborg homes during the Christmas season, and the children expected to find them on the Lucia platter.

  The knock at Ina’s kitchen door startled Sigrid for only a moment. Clarence was gone to town with the children in hopes of purchasing a Christmas gift for Ina. And, since Ina was sleeping, Sigrid had no other choice but to answer the door herself.

  There stood Erik, with a light dusting of snow on his shoulders and head, his cheeks reddened from the wind and cold.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, mindless of her manners. Erik laughed. “I came to see you.”

  “Well, you’d best come in then,” she said, not understanding why she suddenly felt awkward in his presence.

  Sigrid went back to the oven and checked on the buns. “Have a seat and I’ll get you some coffee.” Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach felt like a swirl of butterflies resided inside.

  If it’s possible, she thought, he’s more handsome than ever. Then she pushed aside that line of thinking and tried to steady her nerves. Ever since she’d had him to supper the week before, he’d acted all tongue-tied and strange. She’d wondered what he was thinking, but it seemed rude to press him for an answer.

  “Smells mighty good in here,” Erik said.

  Sigrid straightened and went to the cupboard for a cup. “I’m baking the St. Lucia buns,” she told him and poured steaming coffee into the mug. “Ina’s not feeling very good. I’m guessing the baby will probably come tonight or tomorrow.”

  She put the coffee down on the table before realizing that Erik held a wrapped package in his hands.

  “This is for you,” he said, holding out the gift.

  “For me?” She knew her voice registered distress and disbelief. “It’s too early for Jul gifts.”

  “It’s not for Jul,” he said quite seriously. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and there’s some things that need settled between us.” She felt her mouth go down. “There are?”

  “Just open the package and I’ll explain.”

  She sat down at the table and pulled at the strings which held the paper in place. The paper fell away and inside she found two artfully carved wooden spoons. Tears came to her eyes.

  “You know what these spoons represent,” he more stated than questioned. She nodded but said nothing. “I figured it was time to speak my mind, Sigrid. I don’t want to lose you to that Carter fellow. He’s boasting all over town how he asked you to marry him, and I’m not giving you up without a fight.”

  Her head snapped up at this. “You want the land that bad?”

  Erik slammed his fists down on the table. “It has nothing to do with the land. I want to marry you. I know how you hold to tradition, so I carved the spoons for you and I’m here to ask you to be my wife.”

  Still she said nothing. She couldn’t speak. Between the tears that were overrunning her eyes and the lump in her throat, Sigrid was afraid to even try to talk.

  “I know you think this is about the land, but it isn’t,” he continued. “Seeing that I have competition
and that there’s a real possibility you might slip away gave me cause to think. I don’t want to lose you, Sigrid. I’ve loved you since you were a little girl.”

  At this Sigrid couldn’t sit and face him any longer. All she’d ever hoped for was that he might actually declare his love for her. Why did he have to wait until now? Now, when Ruben was offering her the world. She walked away from the table, clutching the spoons to her breast. What do I do?

  “Did you hear me, Sigrid? I love you. I want you to marry me.” Erik came to where she stood with her back to him. He gently put his hands on her arms as if to turn her to face him.

  This only caused Sigrid to draw her shoulders in tighter. She couldn’t face him. She’d been such fool. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He loves me. He wants to marry me because he loves me. The wonder of it all was too much.

  With a low groan that seemed something between anguish and anger, Erik dropped his hold and walked away. Sigrid thought he was taking his seat at the table until she heard the door open and close. She wanted to run after him, and had actually turned to get her coat when Ina called to her. Erik would have to wait.

  Throughout the night, Ina suffered in heavy labor to give birth to her sixth child. Sigrid stayed by her side, wiping her brow and praying. The breech-positioned infant girl was finally delivered by the doctor just after midnight, and Ina immediately bestowed the name of Bothilda upon the child. It was understood that she would be called Tilly, and Clarence thought it extremely good fortune that she had been born on St. Lucia’s Day.

  Sigrid’s head had barely hit the pillow when Bridgett, the eldest daughter of the family, donned her white robe with the red sash. Yawning, Sigrid forced herself to get out of bed.

  “I’ll help you with the crown,” she said, stifling a yawn.

  Bridgett, taking her role as the Lucia Bride or Queen of Lights very seriously, nodded and positioned the wreath on her head and gingerly made her way down the loft stairs. Sigrid followed, finishing up the buttons of her dress as she went.

  Bridgett arranged buns and cups on a tray while Sigrid made coffee. “I love this day,” Bridgett announced. “I always feel so special.”