by Linda Ford
The matter settled, Agnes went to bed and slept a couple of hours before little Merry woke again. It took an hour to get her back to sleep. Once more the baby wakened, and this time took even longer to settle.
The next morning was Saturday. Agnes wakened to the sounds of Merry crying and the sight of two little girls standing at the foot of her bed. With a groan, she pushed back the covers.
“Is it morning already?”
“We’re hungry,” Hettie said.
Agnes put her feet to the floor and yawned. “So is Merry. Wait outside while I dress, then I’ll see to getting the lot of you fed.”
The girls left the room. She rocked the cradle with her foot as she quickly put on her plain gray dress. The uniform of a servant girl, she thought with some disgust. But the color was practical and actually suited her. She smiled as she brushed her hair and coiled it at the back of her head. It had annoyed Grandmother Taks no end to see how the somber dresses she insisted Agnes wear made her complexion glow and her eyes darker and wider than a brighter color might have.
Enough thinking about the Taks—Truman and his grandmother were part of her past—a past she meant to leave behind.
The baby fussed louder and Agnes changed her diaper and headed for the kitchen. She didn’t have enough hands to quickly prepare the bottle. “Lila, sit on the floor and hold the baby for me.” Hettie sat beside her sister. As soon as the two girls were seated, she put a pillow across Lila’s legs and put the baby on it, showing Lila how to hold the baby so she wouldn’t roll off.
The girls talked to Merry and touched her gently, almost worshipfully, and Agnes hurriedly prepared the bottle, then took the baby and sat to feed her.
“I’m hungry,” Hettie said again.
“Hush,” Lila put her fingers to her mouth. “You mustn’t fuss. Remember what Mama said.”
Hettie nodded and whispered in her sister’s ear. “But I’m hungry.”
“Girls, I’ll make breakfast as soon as Merry eats. She can’t wait.” Agnes yawned. “Take a chair to the window and let me know if Mr. Hansen is coming this way.”
The girls did so and gave her a detailed account of the man’s activities.
“He’s coming from the barn. He’s looking at the cows. Now he’s walking with them. Touching them.” The way the girls squealed, Agnes guessed they thought it was scary to do so. Obviously these cows were not like the wild Texas Longhorns she usually saw.
“Now he’s pumping water into the trough.” The girls giggled.
“What’s he doing?” Agnes asked.
“He stuck his head under the water and now he’s shaking his head. Water is spraying all over. He’s getting all wet.” Hettie giggled but Agnes detected tears in Lila’s voice.
“Would you like to take him a towel?” She was more concerned with Lila’s feelings than Nels’s damp state.
“Okay.” The child ran for the towel and with her little sister in tow, went outside.
Agnes shifted Merry so she could hold the bottle as she made her way to the window to watch.
Lila handed Nels the towel. The man patted her head. Lila grinned widely.
The trio headed for the house.
Agnes spun around. She’d made no move toward breakfast and still couldn’t as Merry drank slowly. Then she would need burping. Nevertheless, she rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a pot to put on the stove.
Stop. Slow down. Her first concern was the baby.
She stood in front of the stove, a pot dangling from one hand, the baby cradled on one side, the bottle awkwardly held in her hand.
Nels stepped inside, his face glowing from the cold wash, his hair damp. Splotches on his navy-blue work shirt revealed where water had splashed. Gray might suit Agnes’s coloring but the dark blue certainly suited his.
The girls stayed at his side as if they had suddenly laid claim to him as a friend.
She thought to warn them. But against what? They had no need to share her caution of trusting a man.
He took in the scene, parked his hat on the hook by the door, and crossed the floor.
“Looks like you need an extra pair of hands.” Before she could think or act, he slipped his arm around the baby, his touch against Agnes warm and firm. He took baby and bottle and walked away.
She stared after him then hustled about making breakfast. Why did he offer to help? If he was trying to persuade her to leave, he was certainly doing it in a strange way.
The bottle empty, he cradled Merry against his shoulder and patted her baby.
She burped loudly.
“That’s the way,” Nels said with approval.
Two little girls covered their mouths and giggled.
Agnes kept her attention on preparing food while wanting to stare at the man holding the baby with two little girls at his side. The scene pulled at her heart. She remembered a papa whom she had adored. How she missed him and Mama. Life had not been the same after their deaths. She’d learned to trust no one, and she wasn’t about to change that.
She set the table with frantic movements.
Merry was done and would soon fall asleep or, if not, be content in her cradle which Agnes had moved to the corner of the kitchen for the day. She took the baby from Nels.
“I don’t mind,” he protested.
“Breakfast is ready.” She’d rushed the food in her haste. “Time to eat and then get on with—” She would not say get on with work. Instead, she ended, “get on with the day.”
Merry slept in the cradle as Agnes dished up the food. She bowed her head and waited for Nels to ask the blessing.
He did so. “Amen.” He looked about the table. “This is almost like my family back home.”
If he expected Agnes to ask why, he would have to wait a long time. She wasn’t trying to be unsociable, but she had no reason to trust this man. Nor even to let herself be at ease in his presence.
But Lila asked right away. “It is?”
“Yes. I have four younger brothers and sisters, so it’s like seeing them again to see you.”
Agnes noticed a dark shadow flicker through his eyes. “You must miss them a lot.” She knew about missing others.
“I do. I hoped—” He sighed. “It’s not to be.”
Again, she saw—and even more—felt his sorrow. “I’m sorry.” Not that knowing of his pain made her situation any less uncertain.
Lila studied him, a serious look on her face. “What did you wish for?”
Nels grew thoughtful as if deciding how much he should tell these innocent children. Though they had lost as much as either adult so were not strangers to dashed hopes and dreams.
He smiled. “I wished for two little girls to sit at the table with me and here you are. Can you believe it?”
Lila and Hettie grinned, pleased to be thought of as the answer to someone’s dreams.
Nels leaned forward as if wanting to share a secret. “And a baby too. How fortunate am I?”
Hettie studied him solemnly. “God knew you needed us.”
Nels blinked. His mouth opened and closed. His eyes darkened and then he smiled, and his face underwent a change so great that Agnes stared. One would think by his expression that he’d been offered the sun and moon and every sunrise and sunset for the rest of his life.
“God did know, didn’t He? That reminds me a of Bible verse. Let me find it.” He went to the other room and plucked a thick Bible from the shelf and carried it to the table. The Bible had metal corners, two metal clasps holding it closed, and a cut-out on the front cover shaped like a cross. He opened it toward the back and began to read.
Agnes and the girls stared at him as strange sounds came from him.
He closed the Bible and looked up, saw their expressions, and laughed. “Didn’t you understand that?”
The two girls were open mouthed and silent, leaving Agnes to answer. “Not a word.”
He tipped his head back and laughed.
When had she ever heard a man laugh so hard and so free
ly? Truman certainly hadn’t. Oh, he’d allowed himself amusement, but always controlled and so often mocking.
She closed her eyes against the pain of remembering shared laughter with Ray, the child she hadn’t seen in three years.
“You talked funny,” Hettie said.
“Hang on, little darling. I’ll do it so you understand.” He put away the big Bible and brought a smaller, black one to the table. He opened the pages and read, “Romans 8:28. ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’” He closed the book. “Did you understand that?”
Two blond heads nodded, but Agnes did not respond.
“Miss Bland?”
“Oh, please. Don’t call me Miss Bland. Agnes will do just fine.”
“Told ya,” Lila said.
“Well, you certainly aren’t bland, so I don’t mind Agnes.”
His comment left her speechless. Bland was her maiden name, but she’d never cared for it since Truman constantly mocked her for living up to her name.
“Did you understand?” Nels asked.
“I understood the words, but not the meaning.” Her answer had come out unfiltered. She put it down to her surprise at his comment. But she could not pull the words back.
“Agnes.” His voice grew soft, almost gentle. “I don’t know your circumstances, but I’m sure you know enough about mine to understand it is something I struggle with as well.”
She met his gaze, held in its grip as if he challenged her. Or offered her something. Remembering where accepting an offer from another man—Truman—had taken her, she tried to turn away. Found herself riveted. She didn’t know how long it would have taken to break free if Hettie hadn’t spoken at that moment.
“I’se all done, Auntie Agnes.”
“Me, too,” added Lila. “Can we be excused?”
Agnes blinked and brought her attention to them. “Yes, you may.”
They slipped from their chairs and hurried to their room. They hadn’t gone far from her sight in the five days since they’d moved into this house. What could drag them away now?
They could be heard whispering. Then they emerged, Lila holding the Bible that had belonged to their mother. Agnes had packed it in their belongings knowing that someday, they would cherish this reminder. At their request, she had added the death of their mother and the birth of their sister to the Family Record section.
Curious as to what they intended, she didn’t say anything as they crossed the room and put the Bible on the table. Both wore solemn expressions. Tears clung to Hettie’s eyelashes.
“This is Papa’s Bible.” Lila’s voice quivered. “He told us he loved it just as he loved God. He said we must read it every day and believe it and always trust God.” She blinked back tears. “He read it to us and then Mama ’cause we can’t read yet but you can.” She looked from Agnes to Nels. “Will you read it to us every day?”
Agnes’s throat clogged with tears. These children had lost so much and yet they were so trusting.
Nels cleared his throat. “I would be honored. I’m sure Miss Agnes would be as well.”
Unable to speak, Agnes nodded.
Nels smiled at the girls. “Would you like me to read at breakfast and Miss Agnes can read to you at bedtime?”
The girls nodded, tears forgotten.
Nels opened the pages to the verse he had previously read and read it again. The little girls clung to every word as if hearing from their father.
Agnes blinked at how appropriate her thoughts were.
As if hearing from their Father.
Nels closed the Bible and Lila reverently carried it to the bookshelf where she put it next to Nels’s big Bible.
She and Hettie stood back, holding hands and looking satisfied. They turned, smiled at the adults. “Can we go out to play?”
“Of course.” Agnes waited until they left to say, “It’s the first time they’ve gone out on their own since—”
“Since you moved into my house?”
She studied him. He didn’t seem angry, but then she didn’t know him well enough to know if he was like Truman and hid his anger behind a smile and a softly spoken word. She pushed to her feet. “I wouldn’t be here if I could think of any other option. Be assured, if something else becomes available, I will certainly remove myself and the children.” She grabbed up a handful of dishes and went to the dishpan. It allowed her to keep her back to him so he wouldn’t see the way her lips trembled.
Would she ever find a home where she was welcomed and accepted? It was even more important now that she had three girls.
Nels studied Agnes’s rigid back. He hadn’t meant to upset her. Couldn’t even say why he’d spoken those words, except to warn himself of letting his dreams get mixed up with this situation. Inga had given her heart to another, but he wasn’t about to do the same. No. He would guard his heart.
But it didn’t mean he had no feelings. Lila and Hettie made him realize how much he missed his family, especially the little ones. His dream had been to have his own family in America. Now he had a borrowed, temporary family. Not that he wanted them to stay, but that shack would get as cold as a cave when winter set in.
“I’ll be outside if anyone should need me.” He paused at the door. Did he expect her to thank him? Wish him well? No, but he thought she might at least say have a good day.
“I’ll call when dinner is ready,” she said without looking at him.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
She turned then, her eyes full of surprise. “I said I would cook your meals.”
“So you did.” He donned his hat and left, a smile tugging at his lips though he could not say why except it pleased him to have gotten a reaction out of her.
Lila and Hettie sat in the dusty grass watching him. It appeared they had been making something out of twigs and grass.
He smiled. “I remember doing something like this with my sister, Elin. She came to America with me and our cousin, Freyda. I wonder how she’s doing? She went on to Buffalo Hollow, Dakota Territory, and is now happily married. I miss her. We are only a year apart in age and spent many hours playing together. She was my best friend.” He squatted down beside the girls as he told them about his sister. “We made little buildings out of twigs and grass. Mine was a barn. Hers was a house.” He showed them how they had done it.
“Thanks, Mr. Hansen,” Lila said as he stood to leave.
“Why don’t you call me Uncle Nels? Mr. Hansen makes me think of my grandfather. Mind you, he is a very nice man, but old.” He moved with stiff legs to illustrate and was rewarded with their giggles.
“Have fun.” He looked toward the house. Miss Agnes stood in the open doorway watching. And no doubt listening. Not that he had said anything he objected to her hearing. He held her gaze across the distance. He wanted to say something but couldn’t say why or what so touched the brim of his hat and went to check on the cows.
He figured to keep them in the corrals for a couple more days, feed them, and let them realize this was home, then turn them out to the open range. He hoped they would stay close to home, especially if they had to come to the yard for water. But what was to stop them from wandering away? Watering at the river?
A tour around the place revealed that Anker had harvested his oats. Likely he’d taken the grain to his place along with the chickens and the draft horses. He’d ride over to Anker’s place and arrange for his livestock and feed to be returned. Then he remembered it was Saturday. He’d go to church tomorrow and speak to Anker there.
He paced out the area he wanted to break this fall then continued his inspection.
His journey took him toward the garden.
Miss Agnes dug potatoes. She straightened as he approached. “I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t see any reason to let them go to waste.”
“’Twould be a sin to waste the produce that God has provided.” He had quoted his grandfar again. The man’s words
and teachings were firmly embedded in Nels’s mind. He leaned on the fence he had built to protect the garden from deer and other animals. “I didn’t think anything would grow once I left.”
“The potatoes and carrots look good. The beets are a little overgrown but useable. The turnips could do with a light frost.”
“Amazing.”
“Do you have a storage place for them? If so, I could dig them in a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” She sounded like she meant to stay. Shouldn’t he inform her not to count on it? As soon as something else became available he expected she would move. But when would that be, with newcomers arriving daily, some seeking temporary quarters while they looked for land? Others intending to start up a business in town.
“It’s a little early to take them out of the ground.” She held his gaze, silently challenging him.
“I guess so. There is a root cellar in the side of the hill.”
“Really. I never saw it.”
He chuckled. “I expect the doorway is overgrown with grass and weeds. I’ll clean it out.”
“That’s not necessary. I can do it.” She started toward the house.
He took the basin of potatoes from her, ignoring her protest as he fell in at her side. “Do you always insist on doing everything yourself?”
“I’ve been taught to do so.”
“By your parents?”
Did she realized she faltered on her next step? “My parents are both dead.”
“I’m sorry. When did they die?”
“I was thirteen.” She explained how their carriage had overturned, killing them.
“What happened to you after that?”
“I worked for others.” They reached the house and she took the basin from him and closed the door behind her.
He stared at the barrier. How unlike they were. He had grown up in a large family where everyone shared everything, even their hurts and disappointments. She’d grown up alone, and if this was any indication, she had learned to keep her feelings locked up.
It seemed a mighty lonely way to live.
Perhaps he could help her open up a bit and find the comfort of sharing one’s thoughts. What was it Grandfar always said? Sorrows shared are sorrows halved.