Inga’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name. Trying to ignore the reaction, she scooped the hash onto plates already set on the table. “It has been a long time for me, too.”
The older woman glanced up. “You’re a special young woman, Inga Linberg. The way you and the girls’ve taken to each other.”
“Nej, I am not special.” She carried the skillet to the sink. “It is not hard to…take to…Martha and Suzanne.”
Hattie chuckled. “They’ve got their days.”
The children returned, and on their heels came their uncle. He had shaved while he was upstairs. His hair was freshly combed and had been dampened with water. Inga’s mind went blank of everything except for the pure pleasure of looking at him.
Suzanne grabbed hold of Inga’s hand and tugged on it. “Help me get dressed, Miss Inga. I wanna make a snowman now.”
Dirk’s gaze met hers. “A snowman?”
She nodded. “But not until the snowfall has stopped.”
He glanced at the children. “Ought to be fun.”
“Will you help us?” Martha asked.
“No, I—”
“Please, Uncle Dirk. Please help us.”
“Help us, Unca Dirk,” Suzanne chimed in. “Help us.”
“Sorry. Too much work to do.” He looked at Inga again. “Got that sleigh to repair.”
“Of course.” Inga turned her attention to Suzanne, pulling the nightgown over her head, then replacing it with a day dress and stockings.
She told herself it was silly to feel such disappointment over his refusal. If Martha hadn’t suggested it, Inga would never have thought of his joining them. And she didn’t want him to, she decided. Whenever he was nearby, she had a difficult time thinking clearly.
“You’re lookin’ better this morning, Ma.” Dirk stepped over to where his mother was seated and kissed the top of her head, then he slid onto his own chair.
“And you’re lookin’ tired, son. Seems to me you could use a little enjoyment.”
He released a humorless laugh.
Inga glanced up as she laced Suzanne’s shoe. She saw Hattie lay her hand over Dirk’s and look at him with worried eyes.
“The girls want you to help them build that snowman.”
“Ma, I—”
“Please, son.”
He sighed. “All right, Ma. If it’s what you want.”
Inga felt a trill of pleasure in her chest, followed by a shiver of apprehension.
“Thank you,” Hattie whispered.
Confused and flustered by her contrary emotions, Inga finished tying Suzanne’s shoe, silently praying no one would ever guess how much she had wanted him to join them—or how much she dreaded it now that he was going to do just that.
“‘And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God…’”
Thea had a difficult time concentrating on what her pappa said from his pulpit. Constantly, she cast covert glances toward the back of the church, hoping to see Inga’s arrival.
“‘Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good…’”
She needed desperately to talk to her older sister. Inga could always be counted on to give good advice. She wasn’t scatterbrained like the others.
“‘Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another…’”
But it seemed the snowstorm had kept Inga from church, as Mamma had predicted it would. Thea didn’t know how long she would have to wait before she could meet with Inga. Perhaps another entire week.
“‘Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer…’”
A week? She couldn’t wait that long. She would go mad if she had to wait that long. She had to know what to write back to Karl.
“‘Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality…’”
Karl…He would arrive in three months. He was coming to America, as he had said he would. He’d written to say he had the promise of employment in a clothing factory in New York City, and he wanted her to join him there. He wanted them to be married.
“‘Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not…’”
It was truly romantic, the very way she’d imagined it would be for them. Karl, leaving Sweden because of his undying love for her. She would have a charming wedding in a small church in New York City. When they walked down the street, arm in arm, people would look and comment on what a beautiful couple they made. Karl would bring her gifts every night when he came home from work because he loved her so dearly.
Oh, Karl…
“‘Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep…’”
But if Pappa knew of her plans, he would stop her. She knew he would. Pappa didn’t approve of Karl. He thought Karl too young to marry and provide for a family. He thought Karl’s and her love was only an infatuation. He didn’t understand. Would never understand. Couldn’t understand. He was too old and too staid to understand how Thea felt.
“‘Be of the same mind one toward another…’”
Not that Inga would understand either. Inga had never been in love, would never be in love. But at least Inga liked Karl. Unlike Pappa, she seemed to understand that Thea and Karl belonged together.
“‘If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men…’”
No, Thea could not wait another week to talk to Inga. She would have to go out to the Bridger farm. Somehow she would have to convince her pappa that they must visit her sister soon. Today. She must see her today.
“‘Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good…’”
Today. This very day.
The snowstorm let up just before noon, and by one o’clock, the children were bundled in coats, scarves, and mittens, as was Inga. While Hattie watched from a chair set near the kitchen window, the three of them went out the back door.
A cloud of mist formed in front of Inga’s mouth as she instructed the girls how to make a ball from the wet snow, then roll it around the yard until it became the base for a snowman. Martha quickly caught on, but Suzanne seemed more intent on falling face-first into the blanket of snow.
“You will never make a snögubbe that way, prinsessa,” Inga said, laughing as she stood the child upright for the fourth time.
“Here, Miss Linberg. Let me help Suzanne.”
Inga’s laughter died instantly as she looked up to find Dirk standing nearby. “Ja.” She moved the child a few steps forward. “Suzanne, your uncle will help you now.”
He packed some snow into a large ball, then set it on the ground in front of Suzanne. “Don’t know how I got talked into this.” Together, they began to roll the ball of snow. “Not like I’ve got the time for it.”
Inga watched uncle and niece as they moved away from her. Her heart tightened at the sight of them, although she didn’t know why it affected her so. Perhaps it was the tender way he guided the little girl, a tenderness quite in contrast to his frequent frowns and constant complaints about time and work.
“Is this big enough, Miss Inga?” Martha asked, interrupting her musings.
She turned and found Martha standing beside an enormous snowball, reaching higher than the girl’s waist. Inga’s laughter returned. “Ja, I think that is big enough, kattunge. Now we must make another one, but smaller or we will never be able to lift it.”
“Uncle Dirk can lift it now that he’s here. Can’t you, Uncle Dirk?”
“Sure, but you two had better hurry. Suzanne and I are gonna get our snowman made first.”
“It’s a race!” Martha shouted with excitement. “Come on, Miss Inga. Let’s hurry!”
For the next half hour, the two adults and two children were embroiled in a contest of speed and agility. No one seemed aware of the cold as they crisscrossed the barnyard, rolling the balls of snow before them
. Laughter and shouts echoed between the barn and the house.
When it came time to stack the second section of their snowman onto the bottom section, Inga wasn’t about to ask Dirk for help. It had been too long since she competed with anyone in any manner, and she wanted to win.
Since Dirk was handicapped by the littler of the two nieces, it seemed almost a certainty that Martha and Inga would complete their snowman first. More than once, Suzanne tripped her uncle, and he was soon as dusted with snow as she was.
As Inga set the head of the snowman in place, she sent Martha after some branches to use for arms. Then she glanced behind her to see how far ahead they were of Dirk and Suzanne. She was just in time to see Dirk scoop the three-year-old up from the ground and toss her into the air. The smile he wore and the sound of his deep laughter stole Inga’s breath away.
There was no point in arguing with herself, no point in trying to reason away her feelings with logic. It didn’t matter that love was supposed to take time to grow. It didn’t matter that she had known this man less than a week. She was falling in love with him, had fallen in love with him already. She only had to look at him to see here was a man to be admired. He had set aside his own plans in order to care for his mother and nieces. Despite his own desires for his life, he had put the needs of others first.
If it were in her power, she would grant him what he wished for most in that instant. Whatever he might want, she would have given it to him gladly.
Because she loved him.
Dirk set Suzanne on her feet, turned, and his gaze met with Inga’s. For one horrible moment, she feared he might read her feelings in her eyes. Then she was saved by the sounds of jangling harness.
He couldn’t have said why, but Dirk was oddly disturbed by the look that had passed between them before Olaf Linberg and the rest of the pastor’s family drove into the yard. But there was no time for Dirk to figure it out before Inga broke eye contact and rushed toward the sleigh.
As soon as the horse came to a halt, all four of the Linberg girls tumbled, giggling, out of the sleigh.
“We’ve missed you, Inga.”
“Pappa can’t find anything in his study.”
“Do you like it here?”
“Have you heard about the Johnson boy? He broke his wrist when he fell on a patch of ice outside the school.”
As they chattered, they each hugged Inga, acting as if they hadn’t seen her in months instead of a few days.
Dirk waited until the pastor and his wife disembarked from the sleigh before walking toward the family. His nieces beat him there.
“Everyone,” Inga said, “I want you to meet Martha and Suzanne.”
“Goddag,” the Linberg sisters said in unison.
“You’re all so pretty,” Martha declared. Looking up at Inga, she added, “You don’t look much like ’em, do you?”
Dirk thought there was a hint of sadness in Inga’s smile as she shook her head and answered, “Nej. We are very different, my sisters and I.”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed the difference himself. Still, he wished Martha hadn’t spoken so frankly.
As Dirk stepped up beside her, Inga motioned toward him without looking. “Mamma, this is Mr. Bridger. Mr. Bridger, this is my mother.”
“Pleasure, Mrs. Linberg,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.
“Goddag, Mr. Bridger,” Bernadotte Linberg replied. “I have been eager to make your acquaintance. It was quite a surprise for me to find Inga gone from our house when I returned there last week.”
Reverend Linberg glanced toward the snowmen. “It looks as if we have spoiled your fun.” Then he glanced at Inga. “I hope that was not what kept you from worship this morning, dotter.”
“No, Pappa. I…we—”
“That was my doin’,” Dirk interrupted. “The runner on my sleigh is broke.”
Her father raised an eyebrow—as if to say that was a poor excuse for missing church—but said nothing more on the matter.
Dirk cleared his throat. “I reckon we’d better go inside. Ma will be itchin’ to meet all of you.”
As the Linbergs, Martha, and Suzanne trooped through the snow toward the back door of the house, Dirk’s gaze remained on Inga. Maybe she wasn’t pretty in the same vein as her sisters. But the more he was around her, the more he thought she—
“Hurry up, Uncle Dirk,” Martha shouted at him.
He gave his head a brief shake, then started after them, the image having slipped away without quite becoming clear to him.
“Inga, what am I to do?” Thea repeated in an anxious whisper.
Inga glanced at her sister as the two of them walked toward the barn, ostensibly because Thea had an overwhelming urge to see the cows. Inga could scarcely believe what her sister had just told her, and now Thea wanted her advice.
“Inga?”
“I don’t know, Thea.”
“But you must help me find a way to get to New York City. You have always been the smartest one. You will know how I should do it.”
“Oh, Thea…”
“Karl is coming to America to marry me. I must be there when he arrives. I must go to New York City and be there to meet his ship.”
Inga opened the barn door, and the two young women stepped inside. “Why don’t you talk to—”
“Pappa will not talk about this. He would only stop me from going.” Thea grabbed Inga’s arm. “I know you don’t understand what it is like to be in love, but you must try. Please, help me. If I don’t go, I will die. I will simply die.”
You don’t understand what it is like to be in love. Thea would never know how wrong she was, Inga thought as she stared into her sister’s frantic gaze. Because she did understand. She knew how being in love stole her breath away, stole her ability to reason or think clearly. She knew how it made her heart race and her blood run hot, how it made everything seem possible and impossible at the same time.
“Inga, you must not tell me I am too young. You must not tell me to forget Karl. I could never forget him.”
She shook her head. “Nej, I will not say that.”
“Then you will help me?”
“I should not. I should do what Pappa would do. I should do the sensible thing and forbid you to go. New York City is full of danger. You could come to some harm. I should refuse.” She thought of Dirk. “But…”
Thea held her breath.
“Ja, kära du, I will help you. I do not know how, but I will find some way to help you.”
Her sister threw her arms around Inga and hugged her tightly. “I knew I could count on you. I just knew it. You are my favorite sister.”
“I am sure I shall regret this.” She drew back so she could look at Thea. “But all I care is that you never regret it.” She kissed the younger woman’s cheek.
“I won’t, Inga. I promise you, I won’t.”
The barn door swung open a second time, and Gunda peeked inside. “What secrets are you telling each other?” she asked as she entered.
“No secrets,” Thea said hastily. “I have been asking Inga how she feels about working for the Bridgers.”
Gunda closed the door. “I know how I would feel.” She hugged herself. “Dizzy.”
“Dizzy?” Inga repeated.
“Mmm.” Gunda closed her eyes. “Whenever Herr Bridger was near, I would go weak in the knees and my head would swim. He is so handsome, Inga. How do you bear it?”
Inga felt her cheeks growing warm. Quickly, she turned and walked deeper into the barn, hoping the dim light would hide her reaction to her sister’s question. It would never do for anyone to guess she felt exactly the way Gunda had described.
See, she scolded herself. These are the feelings of a silly schoolgirl. I only have to look at Gunda to know it. The feelings will not last.
“Hush,” she heard Thea say. “Don’t you know Inga is only here to help the Bridgers? She would never be as silly as you.”
Inga wanted to ask why she would never be like Gun
da. Why did everyone assume she would never fall in love, would never get dizzy or go weak in the knees over a man? Was she really so different from the rest of them?
She looked behind her in time to see Gunda give her head a sassy shake.
“I don’t care what you say, Thea Matilda Linberg. I am going to visit Inga as often as I can, and I will make Herr Bridger notice me.”
Inga felt her stomach sink. Gunda was so pretty, so vibrant. Of course Dirk would notice her. What man wouldn’t notice a girl like her? And if Gunda had her mind set on it—
“And what about the Dolk twins?” Thea interrupted. “I thought you liked one of them.”
Gunda grinned. “I like them both. And they do live in town. I cannot avoid seeing them. Can I help it if they like me, too?”
“What are you doing in here?” Kirsten asked as she and Astrid entered the barn.
Astrid wrinkled her nose. “Ooh, it smells.”
“Of course it smells.” Kirsten poked Astrid with an elbow. “It’s a barn.”
Inga had a sudden urge to defend the barn for the way it looked, the way it smelled. And just as suddenly, she knew she felt that way because it was Dirk’s barn.
There was no doubt about it. She was becoming as silly as Gunda. The next thing she would know, she’d find herself flirting with Dirk.
And that was the most preposterous thought of all.
Later that evening, after the children were asleep in their beds, Hattie settled back in her chair near the fireplace and closed her eyes. It was pleasant—the warmth of the fire, the peace and quiet of the house, Inga’s company nearby.
“It was real nice gettin’ to meet all your family,” Hattie said after a lengthy but companionable silence. “You must miss them.”
“Sometimes. But I fear their visit wearied you.”
She felt Inga lay a blanket over her lap. “Thank you, dear.” Then she smiled. “I enjoyed the snowman race, too.”
“We never finished.”
Robin Lee Hatcher - [Coming to America 02] Page 6