As they pulled into the churchyard, Jan raised his hand to greet his friends. He, too, looked forward to good conversations and the exchange of news. He waved to Norvald, Rikkert, and then Brian McKennie.
Fiona McKennie and her daughter Meg were engaged in an animated dialogue with someone Jan didn’t recognize—a woman, and certainly not a woman from around here! Her clothing, what he could see of it, was stylish and expensive-looking.
Søren noticed her also. “Pappa, that is the woman! The woman who was at the Andersons’ place with Mr. Morton,” he said, sidling up to Jan.
Jan nodded. He was mildly curious, but did not get a good look at the woman’s face before Norvald approached with a grin and a hearty handshake.
Brian McKennie left his fields toward the end of the week—in the middle of planting season, no less!—to pay a visit to Jan and Søren. “Th’ woman who was visitin’ our church Sunday, Mrs. Brownlee is bein’ her name, has bought the Andersons’ homestead!”
He pointed across the fields to the little house. “An’ is already livin’ there, she is, as ye can be seein’.”
Jan stared with astonishment down his fields and across the creek. A thread of smoke issued from the stovepipe poking out of the roof. How is it I did not notice this? he asked himself. chagrined.
“She came on th’ train all by her ownself last week an’ was stayin’ at th’ boardin’ house,” Brian continued with raised brows. “Our Meg made her acquaintance and brung her t’ Sunday supper.”
“What? She traveled alone? She is there”—Jan jerked his chin toward the Anderson homestead—“alone?” he demanded.
“Aye. She thinks t’ be makin’ a home there.” Brian nodded sagely. “My Fiona and I are that worried about her, we are.”
Jan’s thoughts were in a snarl. He could not fathom why any woman—and one as unprepared for country life as this one certainly seemed to be—would choose to live alone on a homestead.
And in the Andersons’ house! Jan shuddered. Henrik had been hard-pressed to keep their clapboard house together before his accident. In the year after Henrik died, the condition of the dwelling had only declined.
Yes, Jan and Søren had helped Abigael and her sønns work their fields and lent a hand with chores many a time, but the house had now been sitting empty for more than a year. It was in a sorry state!
What could that woman be thinking? Abruptly he realized he was angry—angry and resentful.
“’Tis for God this woman be searchin’” Brian softly added. “Fiona and I are agreed on it; Mrs. Brownlee be hungerin’ for truth. We pray God she be findin’ him here.”
Brian’s words, repeated by Søren, found their way into Jan’s annoyed thoughts. She is hungry for God? Could she not find God where she came from? His frown deepened.
Brian eyed Jan’s furrowed brow. “Th’ reason I’m visitin’ would be Mrs. Brownlee wishin’ t’ hire carpenters. Sure, an’ ye both know th’ house is fallin’ apart?”
“Hire?” Søren’s eyes gleamed. “She wants to hire carpenters for cash money?” Opportunities to work for cash were rare.
“Aye. Not t’ be passin’ tales, boot Mrs. Brownlee is looking t’ be good for it.”
He explained that Mrs. Brownlee was anxious to have the work commence as soon as possible. Brian shuffled his feet and grinned. “Ye are bein’ th’ best carpenter near, Jan—and I was th’ tellin’ of it.”
Jan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He had been relieved when Abigael and her sons moved back East! The responsibility of ensuring that Henrik’s family survived had been heavy, what with farming Thoresen land and caring for his own family.
He caught himself shaking his head and, irritated, wondered again, What could that woman be thinking?
“Pappa, we have most of the early crops in,” Søren urged him. “We can finish tomorrow. I would call it a blessing to make a few dollars of my own.”
Jan thought a few minutes. What Søren said was so—the timing was good. And his sønn deserved the opportunity to earn some money.
“Ja,” he said at last. “Tell her we come Saturday, eh?”
Søren let out a whoop and thumped his father on the arm.
~~**~~
Chapter 34
Saturday morning Søren leapt from his bed and hustled to finish his morning chores. Amalie frowned and clucked over him as he wolfed down his breakfast.
In the same breath she reminded him, “Don’t forget, Søren, I want you to tell me everything about our neighbor when you come home this afternoon, eh? Just think! Another woman nearby! Thank the good Lord!”
Søren promised and pushed away from the table the instant Jan finished their morning devotions. “I’ll get the tools ready, Pappa.”
“I would like to meet the new lady, Onkel,” Uli said eagerly. “Could I come with you some time? I could help the lady!”
Jan touched Uli’s cheek with affection. Such a comfort she is to me, Lord! “We don’t even know her yet, little one. But I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough, eh?”
He sighed inwardly. Since Brian had visited, Jan had wrestled with his attitude about their foolish new neighbor until finally—as was usual—he had cast the care of the situation on the Lord.
You must not borrow trouble, eh, Jan Thoresen? he reminded himself.
He and Søren cut through their fields and crossed the creek where it was closest to the Andersons’ old house. Søren carried the large tool caddy; Jan toted a saw across his left shoulder and the lunch pail in his right hand.
As they sloshed up the slope from the creek, the door to the house swung open and the woman stepped out. Søren, a shy smile plastered on his face, introduced himself and then his father. Jan shook the woman’s hand and greeted her but remained mostly silent as she and Søren discussed what she wished done.
So this is Fru Brünlee, Jan thought. Keeping his face carefully neutral, he studied her.
What he saw was a woman in her thirties whose clothes hung upon her slender frame as though she had been ill. Her hair, a dusty ash-blonde, was coiled and neatly pinned at the back of her head, framing a face that, too, was unnaturally slender and wan.
Ah, Lord! It is worse than I imagined. This woman is so thin she will likely blow away in the first strong wind! She has no understanding of what living on the prairie will require of her.
Her hands, he’d observed when exchanging greetings, were soft, smooth, and gentle—not the hands of a woman acquainted with work.
But . . . something decidedly firm played in the set of her mouth. And her eyes were not blue, as he had first believed. They were gray—and staring right back at him.
Jan flinched but managed to return her scrutiny with detachment. After all, he had been caught studying her.
Mrs. Brownlee showed them around. Jan and Søren knocked on walls and doors, took measurements, and discussed the materials they would require.
They had finished their inspection and Jan and Søren were discussing the inadequacy of the front door and its frame when Mrs. Brownlee coughed politely, requesting their attention. She flushed as, from behind her back, she withdrew a few sheets of paper covered in pencil drawings.
“Excuse me. I, ah, I know it’s important to make everything weatherproof, and I want that of course. But while you’re working on the basics, I would like, that is, I have some ideas I would like incorporated. Right here . . . on these papers?”
Jan understood few of her words but he was interested in the drawings she laid on the table before them.
She had drawn a rectangle representing the house and had sketched in windows on the east and south walls and added an interior wall to divide the house into two areas. On the north wall where the stove sat, she had indicated cupboards and shelves. Off to the side she had drawn their details.
Engaged, Jan studied the outline of a covered porch that ran the front length and down the south side of the house. Jan pointed to the sketch, ready to give credit where it was due.
; “She has done a fair job of this, eh?” he asked Søren. “We can improve on her cupboards and shelves, I think, but she has certainly given this some thought.”
He and Søren discussed the windows and the interior wall, the roof, and then the porch. Jan rubbed his chin. “I would feel better if we do all of the necessary work first. Who knows when a storm will come? And does she know we can only spare about two weeks right now? This porch is nice but not necessary. Maybe we can build it by the end of summer, but not right away.”
“Ja, I agree,” Søren answered. Mrs. Brownlee watched their conversation with a keen eye. “But I think she will be disappointed, Pappa,” he finished.
At last Søren told her, “These windows must be ordered. Mr. Bailey’s company doesn’t stock them this size, and he only keeps a few on hand anyway. If you are intent on this . . . veranda? My father says it should be built last, after the roof is replaced, the interior work done, doors rebuilt, and windows installed.
“We may not be able to get to the decorative part until late summer if we are to complete the essential repairs between plantings, that is, in the next two weeks.”
“I see,” Mrs. Brownlee replied, blinking.
Søren was right, Jan thought. She is disappointed.
She must have realized he was watching her, however, for she smiled brightly and, straightening her shoulders, added, “Well then, we will get the essentials done and not worry about the porch until later. But I would like it as soon as is convenient.”
He and Søren got to work. They pulled off the front door and door frame. While Jan was measuring for a new frame and door, Søren busied himself nailing down loose boards.
That morning Jan built a solid, sturdy door and was engrossed in framing it in when he noticed what Fru Brünlee was doing. The woman, clearly unaccustomed to using tools, was hacking ineffectively at the weeds growing around the yard.
Out of the corner of his eye Jan noted her clumsy attempts to widen the swath of cleared ground in front of the house. At least she has the sense to wear gloves, Jan grumbled as he turned his attention back to the doorjambs. But as she is unaccustomed to such labor, I have no doubt she will lose her ambition inside of an hour.
At midmorning, Jan and Søren had drawn up a list of lumber and materials they needed and called for Fru Brünlee to come and approve it. The woman, grimy and clearly uncomfortable, assured them that they could order or purchase whatever was on the list.
“All the arrangements are made with Mr. Bailey and Mr. Schmidt—you may pick up whatever you need.”
Mr. Thoresen spoke rapidly to Søren in Norwegian, who agreed. “My father suggests one of us take our wagon to town to get the lumber, so I will leave right away. There are several things to be done here in the meantime; my father will stay and work on them.”
“That’s fine.” She hurried away to the pump and Jan saw her wash her hands in the cold water. Søren strode across the creek and toward their barn to hitch a wagon.
Leaving the finished door until Søren returned to help him mount it, Jan turned his attention to making repairs to the small barn and to the outhouse.
Surprising him, Mrs. Brownlee continued chopping and raking weeds. I thought she would have given up by now, he scoffed.
Jan noted the many times she went to the pump to bathe her face and hands. Then he saw that she was unsteady on her feet. He also recognized the determined set of her jaw. Sighing, he left his repairs and waited between her and the pile of weeds she was building.
Apparently, she hadn’t realized he was there because she turned and walked right into him. She stood blinking, plainly exhausted.
Jan took the rake from her hand. “Too much,” he said mildly. “Sit, please.”
She sighed and stumbled to the pump to again rinse her hands and face and then, with weary footsteps, dragged herself into the house.
Jan did not see or hear the woman until Søren returned with the wagon of lumber. By then Jan had finished clearing the area around the house and set the piles of weeds to burn. He and Søren started unloading the wagon.
“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Fru Brünlee was squinting in the sunlight, wiping sleep from her face.
Ah! She has slept, Jan surmised, feeling his earlier misgivings justified. No one on a farm sleeps during the day! Just as I thought . . . she will soon find she has no business out here on the prairie.
Søren laughed. “No, but I’m sure hungry enough to. We brought ours in that pail, and I’m just getting back as you can see, so we’re about ready now.”
“Would you like some coffee with it?”
Jan understood coffee well enough! “Ja! Dat’s gud.”
Jan and Søren finished unloading and then settled in the shade of one of the trees. Jan heard Søren’s stomach growl and grinned at him. Søren grinned back and unpacked their lunch pail.
As they waited for their neighbor to bring the coffee, Jan stared across the creek, seeing their farm with new eyes. He liked what he saw: well-maintained buildings; fields plowed in orderly rows; cows grazing in the distant pasture.
At last Fru Brünlee returned with hot coffee and her lunch. Jan blessed the food in Riksmaal and she echoed Søren’s “amen.”
Jan and Søren tucked napkins into their shirt collars and attacked their lunch with abandon. Jan had polished off a thick, open-faced sandwich and pickles, carrots, and turnip slices and was eyeing a slice of pie when he noticed what Mrs. Brownlee had prepared for her own lunch: a single slice of bread and bit of cheese!
Jan was amused and said to Søren, “Look what this woman is eating after all the work she did this morning. It is no wonder she is so thin—no one has ever fed her properly!” He chuckled and bit deep into his pie. Søren nodded and grinned as he inhaled a second sandwich.
“What did he say?” Fru Brünlee asked, smiling with them.
“Oh! He said that the reason you are so thin is that no one has ever fed you properly,” Søren replied, not appreciating that passing on his father’s comment was, perhaps, less than prudent.
A red swath spread up the woman’s neck to her cheeks. Jan’s eyebrows shot up and he glared at Søren. Søren apologized immediately.
“Mrs. Brownlee, I’m sorry—what I said—what he said wasn’t meant to be rude. Our women eat quite a bit. Why, Sigrün eats nearly as much as I do when we are harvesting. I truly apologize if we’ve offended you.” Søren glanced at his father who was still glaring at him.
She nodded and, after a moment, she offered, “It’s true, I’m not used to working hard—or even being around men who work hard and eat as well, I mean as much, as you do. I’m sure my appetite will get better as I work out-of-doors.”
She paused and bit her lip. “You see, I was sick a bit ago and haven’t gotten my weight back yet. But I will.”
As Søren translated, Jan nodded his understanding. He cut a small wedge from the wrapped cheese and offered it to her.
“Gjetost,” he told her. “Gud, gud for you.”
“Goat’s cheese,” Søren explained. “A specialty from Norway. It’s very nutritious. We have five goats in addition to our cows.”
She sniffed it dubiously. Then Jan noticed her do that thing again—that straightening of her shoulders—before she cautiously nibbled the dark brown cheese. She took another bite and then finished the piece.
“I like it. Thank you.”
Jan gestured to Søren. “Ask her if she has any milk here.”
“She wants to know if she could buy some from us.”
Jan nodded. “Yes, tell her we will work something out.”
Now into a serious lecture, Jan directed, “Tell her if she has been ill she should be careful and not overdo it by working outside too long like she did today! That is, until she rebuilds her strength.”
Søren hesitated before repeating his father’s advice to their new neighbor.
Jan frowned and added, “Tell her, too, that she is too pale! She should work outside sometimes without a hat. Af
ter all, sunshine is good for us! It will give her some color. She is as pale as milk. Of course, not too much at a time. And tell her to eat more, eh, Sønn?”
Jan watched and listened to the conversation between Søren and Fru Brünlee. Søren chuckled several times and—was he apologizing? Apologizing for what Jan had asked him to tell her?
But apparently Fru Brünlee thanked Søren for his advice. She ate everything on her plate, so Jan added more, just a little more—a second piece of gjetost, several pickles, and some cookies—and watched until she swallowed the last bite.
Jan nodded in approval. “Come,” he said to Søren. “I want to get started inside. Henrik and Abigael’s house has become as drafty as a barn.”
Jan and Søren worked inside the house the rest of the afternoon. They moved Mrs. Brownlee’s few things away from one wall so they could paper between the studs with black tar paper.
When Fru Brünlee saw what they were about, she pulled up a chair and watched them as though fascinated. After Jan and Søren finished tarring the entire wall, they cut long planks and nailed them lengthwise to the studding, butting the boards together with a few soft taps of a hammer on their sides. All the while, Fru Brünlee studied their work.
Then it was time for them to return home and do the evening chores. Jan and Søren put Mrs. Brownlee’s things back where they had been.
“We don’t work tomorrow, Mrs. Brownlee,” Søren informed her, “because it’s Sunday. But we’ll be back Monday morning. We’ll get a lot done since we have the lumber here now.”
“Thank you! It’s already looking better! And I’m sure I will see you at church tomorrow. Perhaps I could meet Mrs. Thoresen then.”
“I would be happy to introduce you, Mrs. Brownlee,” Søren answered.
Jan helped Søren gather their tools and lunch pail and they strode down the slope across the creek and fields to the waiting cows and other chores.
Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 25