A Season of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  Signe read it at supper.

  “‘Dear Signe, Ivar, and all our family there,

  “‘We will be leaving Norway in ten days, something I did not dream possible. I am gathering up what I can to bring along. And yes, I will bring starts of the irises you asked for, along with flower seeds. Selma says that one minute she is excited, the next terrified. What if she and Mr. Kielund cannot abide one another? I remind her that God loves all of them and is bringing their good into being. With all her suffering, I think she might be afraid to fall in love again, or that love cannot happen more than once in a woman’s life. I trust that you think highly of this man and that your pastor does too.

  “‘I am praying for calm seas, as I have to confess, I fear I will be terribly seasick. Your accounts of the crossing make one tend to fear that way.’”

  Nilda shook her head. “I’d be afraid of that too, but there were so many good things to come of it. The good outweighs the bad.”

  “How old is Eric, Selma’s son?” Leif asked.

  “I think he is nearly five.” Nilda thought a moment. “Or perhaps only four. Little, anyway.”

  “But bigger than Kirstin?” At her nod, he continued, “So she will still be the baby.”

  The women nodded.

  That night Bjorn and Ivar took shifts watching for the pig thief to return. The only thing they earned was exhaustion and hay in their hair.

  Three days passed. The waist now looked like it should, with sleeves puffed at the shoulders and fitted from elbow to wrist. Lace edged the stand-up collar and the front tucks.

  “Tomorrow I make the buttonholes and sew on the buttons.” Gerd rubbed her eyes. “And we have enough fabric left for me to make a dress for Kirstin. I think I’ll do tucks on the bodice for her too. Such tiny tucks.”

  “I was afraid you would never want to sew again.” Nilda traced a finger down one of the tucks. “It’s so lovely. Gerd, I will never be able to thank you. You need to teach me how to use that machine. What a godsend.”

  No puma came for the next two nights. Sleeping in the haymow had lost its appeal for the boys.

  “Maybe he found something else to eat,” Knute offered at the breakfast table.

  “What if it is a she and she has cubs to feed?” Leif said. “She’d probably come back more often, in that case. But if you shot her, the babies would die.”

  Signe shook her head. Leave it to her tenderhearted boy to think of that.

  “Would you rather she killed more of our pigs? What about the sheep? Mr. Edmonds said bobcats like lambs and calves. We better build more stalls for the winter.” Knute looked at the clock. “But right now we better get on Rosie and get to school. We’re going to have to canter partway as it is.”

  The two boys grabbed their dinner pails and ran out the door, Rufus jumping and leaping with them. In the beginning he had tried to follow them, but Leif had trained him to stay home.

  “That boy sure has a way with animals,” Gerd said when Rufus jumped back up on the porch to wait, never taking his gaze from the lane. “How that dog already knows when it is time for them to come home is more than I can understand.” She picked up the coffeepot. “Anyone for more?”

  Saturday afternoon, Nilda and Ivar drove Rosie and the cart to Blackduck. “You watch,” he said. “That puma is going to show up while we’re gone, and Bjorn will sleep through it.”

  “Fine way to talk.” Nilda glared at him.

  He clucked Rosie to an easy trot. “Fine day to go for a drive. Fine day to be working in the woods. Fine day for most anything, including a social this evening.”

  “Whoever would have dreamed something like this could come about because of a woman we met on the train who decided we needed feeding? Do you realize that the only other wealthy people in the whole world that we know are the Nygaards? Their house isn’t as fine as Mrs. Schoenleber’s, but they have help.” She shuddered. “I don’t know Mr. Nygaard, but his wife is a banshee and thinks she’s better than anyone else.”

  “He’s not a bad sort, I guess.” He paused. “Why are we talking about them?”

  “Good question.”

  “Tonight you’ll see Petter again.”

  The flush started at her chest and flamed her neck and cheeks, clear up to her hairline. “He came to see both of us, remember?”

  “Ja. But he has eyes for you.”

  “Ivar Carlson, that is quite enough.” She poked him hard enough to get her point across. “Now when I see him, I’ll be so embarrassed that I’ll turn fifty shades of red, and it is all your fault.”

  They delivered the butter and eggs to Mrs. Benson and arrived in Blackduck, where they stopped at the lumberyard so Ivar could give Mr. Hechstrom, the clerk at the lumberyard, their list. At the mercantile, Nilda bought thread and a packet of needles for the sewing machine, then fingered the chintz she would love to sew into a dress. But the navy serge would make a fine skirt and be a much wiser purchase. She paid for the needles and thread and returned to the cart, where Ivar waited patiently.

  “Good thing Mrs. Schoenleber said to come early, because we are.”

  “We’ll go back to the lumberyard and then to her house,” Ivar said. “Not that we have a lot that needs settling in.”

  The wrought iron fence announced Mrs. Schoenleber’s house before they could see the lovely front yard. A maple tree flaming crimson and scarlet scattered leaves with abandon next to the brick two-story house with curtain-draped windows and a wreath on the carved wooden front door.

  “Even her house looks friendly,” Nilda said.

  Ivar turned Rosie into the driveway and stopped at the walk from the drive to the front door.

  “Welcome Mr. and Miss Carlson, glad you could come.” George, the driver, walked up to Rosie and stroked her nose. “Mrs. Schoenleber is probably ordering tea and refreshments right now. You go on up to the door there, and I’ll take care of your horse and cart.”

  “Thank you. Good to see you again.” Ivar stepped down to assist Nilda, winking at her as he did so. He took their bags from the back of the cart.

  “No, no, leave that to me,” George said. “You just go and enjoy yourselves.”

  “If you say so.” Ivar set their meager belongings on the path and did as he was told. He dropped the door knocker against the plate once and waited. The door opened after only a few seconds.

  “Welcome,” the man who answered said. “I am Charles, and Mrs. Schoenleber is waiting in the main parlor. Tea will be served, and the fireplace is burning in case you might be chilled.” He half bowed and motioned them inside.

  “Thank you.” Nilda smiled at the butler, who managed to look formal and friendly at the same time.

  He led the way down a walnut-paneled hall and opened the door into the same room they’d visited in before. Mrs. Schoenleber had referred to it as her favorite room. She stood and came toward them, both hands extended.

  “I am so glad you could come. I know you live so far out, but you humored this old lady. Thank you, thank you.” She took Nilda’s hand first and then Ivar’s. “You too look like living in America agrees with you.”

  “Oh, it does. More than we ever dreamed.” Nilda returned the hand squeeze. “Thank you for inviting us.”

  “That Petter was thrilled to be asked to deliver the invitation. He said he has been out to deliver lumber and help build your brother’s house. He’d never been to a house-raising before. ‘Why, it went up in two days,’ he said.” She motioned to the chairs in front of the snapping fire. “I know we didn’t need a fire today, but fall seems to call for fires, don’t you think?”

  Nilda could feel a bubble of delight rising in her middle. “In Norway, many of the houses still cook in fireplaces. I remember when Far and Mor were able to put a stove in our house for cooking.”

  A maid entered with the refreshments.

  “Just set the tray there.” Mrs. Schoenleber nodded toward the low table. “We’ll be eating later at the social, but I thought you might like
something before you go up to your rooms to get ready. Nilda, do you need anything pressed for tonight?”

  “Really? Why yes, I was going to hang up my skirt and waist immediately.”

  “Never fear, Gilda will have them back to you in no time. Do you take milk in your tea? I know you are coffee drinkers, but tea is delightful in the late afternoon like this.” While she poured the tea, the maid handed them each a plate and napkin, then held out the tray.

  “Please help yourselves,” the maid said. “Madam does not like anyone to go hungry. Or thirsty, for that matter.”

  “Are you Gilda?” Nilda asked. She studied the tray. There were so many choices, and for only three people. Ivar had better eat a lot.

  “No, miss, I am Stella. Welcome to Schoenleber House.”

  Nilda and Ivar answered their hostess’s many questions while they ate. Then they were shown to their side-by-side rooms. In her room, Nilda took off her shoes and flopped backward onto the high, canopied bed she had slept in before. Such comfort beyond imagination. If only Signe could see this.

  A few minutes later, a knock at the door announced Gilda, who brought Nilda’s skirt and waist in on hangers and hung them in the wardrobe. “Can I get you anything else, miss?”

  “My name is Nilda. Please, can you call me that?”

  “If you wish. We don’t really stand on formality here as much as many. You remember we have running water, both hot and cold, and a bathtub in the bathroom. You have plenty of time to bathe, and afterward, I could help you with your hair if you like.”

  Nilda sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure this isn’t a small bit of heaven?”

  Gilda smiled. “I’m glad you think that. Now, may I start the bath for you? It takes time to fill.”

  Lying against the sloped end of the tub, bubbles frothing around her, Nilda heaved a sigh. How could she ever deserve such luxury as this?

  Some time later, she made her way downstairs, one hand trailing on the railing. She might not have the fanciest clothes, but she felt like a princess anyway. Hearing laughter from the drawing room, she paused at the doorway. Petter spotted her immediately and crossed the room to greet her.

  “I’m so glad you could come. I’ll introduce you to the others. More people will be coming soon.”

  The knocker on the door announced another guest. As she entered the room with Petter, she could hear Charles greet the newcomer. For some strange reason, she paused long enough to hear an answer.

  “I am a friend of Petter’s.”

  Nilda froze. Surely this was not possible. It couldn’t be.

  Petter gave her a puzzled frown. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I was looking forward to introducing you to my new friend, Dreng Nygaard. He’s recently from Norway too.”

  Nilda’s worst nightmares were now reality.

  Chapter

  10

  Run! Stay! Run!

  With those words screaming through her mind, Nilda stiffened her back and raised her chin, hands fisted at her sides. How she would talk through such tightly clenched teeth was beyond her. You will not run! You will not let him see your fear! Stand and smile! Now!

  The smile on his face did not reach his eyes. Wisely, he did not offer his hand. With an infinitesimal bow, he said in a voice that might have been sweet, had she not seen his eyes before he smiled, “Petter told me others here had recently come from Norway. How good to see old friends from home.”

  Friends? Friends! Ivar, get over here.

  Instead of screaming, How did you find me, she said, her words clipped more sharply than the finest steel knife, “Really, such a surprise.” Shock, more likely. She caught the puzzlement on Petter’s face. “Whatever brought you to Blackduck?”

  “Dreng said he is hoping to hire on at one of the camps, like I will,” Petter explained.

  “I see. I hope you get your wish.” And a big tree falls on you. Immediately she fought to bury such thoughts. Hearing her mor’s voice in her head brought back a measure of sanity. “Shall we go join the others?” She saw Ivar was engrossed in talking with two other young men. No help there.

  “So, how are you and Ivar doing here in America?” Dreng asked politely. “You are with relatives, if I remember right.”

  How do you know that? Of course, others in Valders knew of their situation. She ignored his comment. She was not going to converse with him as if nothing had ever happened. Behave yourself. That voice again. Be the lady you look to be. If only she dared ask him how his banishment to America was going.

  When could she beg a headache, the one pounding at her temples, and go upstairs?

  Mrs. Schoenleber was making her way around the room, greeting and welcoming everyone to her home for the evening. Petter made the introductions.

  “Welcome, Mr. Nygaard. So you are new in town?” Mrs. Schoenleber said.

  “I arrived last week by way of Minneapolis. I’ve been in America for, surprisingly, almost half a year. How time flies, doesn’t it, Miss Carlson?”

  Nilda nodded, albeit stiffly, as if she wore a brace on her neck, probably the same one that was keeping her back rigid. She felt a glance from Mrs. Schoenleber.

  “Well, I believe everyone is here, so let’s get started.” Their hostess clapped her hands for attention. “Welcome to our first social of this year. The first of many, I hope. I am so pleased you all decided to come. My purpose is twofold. To use the home God has given me as a place for people to gather and become friends, and to bring laughter to this house again, since my husband left this life for the next. I want the young people of Blackduck to gather, become friends, and have good times to look forward to. So, if you all enjoy yourselves, we will plan on gathering on a monthly basis.”

  Applause circled the room.

  “I thought we could go around the room, and everyone can say your name and where you came from. Following that, the card tables are set up for whist and euchre, so take your pick. If you do not know how to play, those who do will teach you. After the first round of play, I’d like you all to change tables, with one person remaining at the table. This will help you get to know each other better.”

  How was Nilda going to avoid Dreng with something like that?

  Mrs. Schoenleber continued. “A modest meal will be served later, but coffee, tea, and punch are available at the bar now. If you need anything, please feel free to ask me. Oh, and if you have a friend you would like to invite next month, please do so.” She smiled around the room. “And now, let the introductions begin.”

  Of the twelve people present, seven were male. One could scarcely be heard, and another blushed clear up to his almost white-blond hair, but Dreng spoke clearly with complete self-assurance. He smiled, mainly at the young women, and nodded to Petter, who stood next to him. Nilda was next; surprisingly she knew she sounded assured as she spoke, even though her hands were shaking, more from being clenched than from being shy. They all spoke English. Most, like her and Ivar, with heavy accents, but at least they could be understood.

  When they finished and began drifting over to the tables, Petter asked her, “Which is it, whist or euchre?”

  “I-I—excuse me, please. I’ll be right back.” Nilda smiled, or at least she hoped she did. All she really wanted to do was get in the cart and go home. And never see Dreng Nygaard again.

  “We’ll save you a place,” Petter offered.

  “That’s all right.” She left the room without running but paused in the hall, leaning against the carved paneling, her hand at her throat as if to stop the pounding of her heart.

  “Are you all right, miss?” Stella asked.

  Nilda nodded. “I will be. I guess it felt a bit close in there. I-I’ve forgotten where the powder room is.”

  “Second door on the right. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Nilda made sure she smiled. There was no sense in letting everyone know how she wanted to run.

  She used the nece
ssary, washed her hands at the sink, and while drying her hands, stared into the mirror. Pinch your cheeks, put a smile on that face, and get back out there. You will not allow Dreng Nygaard to destroy the pleasure of this evening. Just stay as far away from him as possible.

  Back in the drawing room, she ignored Petter’s smile and took the last seat at another table. When the tables changed, she made certain she was with Ivar. “Stay close to me!” she hissed.

  “This is a crowded room. He can’t try anything here. And frankly, I’m avoiding him too. I despise him as much as you do.”

  “But it is not you he tried to . . .”

  “No, but I was one of those on, shall we say, the disciplinary board.” Ivar grimaced. “He hasn’t spoken to me, and I am not speaking to him. I want to let it go at that.”

  Was Ivar afraid? Nilda couldn’t imagine that. “Well, don’t get too far away from me, anyway. I mean, you know, if I need you.”

  “You’re safe.”

  The third time the tables changed, Nilda could not stay away from Dreng without making a scene. She smiled at the other two gentlemen and asked, “Who would like to deal?”

  “I will,” Dreng offered. He shuffled the deck and dealt the cards.

  Euchre was not her favorite game, but there was no way to back out. Her mind refused to concentrate, so she stumbled on a couple of plays. “I’m sorry, I haven’t played this for a long time.”

  “May I get you something to drink?” one of the men asked.

  “Thank you, no. I’ll be fine.” Pay attention, she ordered herself as she forced a polite smile.

  “Supper is served,” Charles announced a bit later. Massive dining room doors opened to long, lovely tables set with fine china. Nilda chose a chair near the middle of the table. Making sure she was not by Dreng took every bit of ingenuity she possessed. There was nothing she could do about sitting across from him except make certain she did not look at him.

  Had Charles said “supper”? And Mrs. Schoenleber had said “a simple meal.” But servants entered from two directions carrying food on beautiful porcelain serving dishes. They paused by each guest as he or she put a serving on their plate. The servants then placed the bowls down the center of the tables so that those who wished could take seconds. When a bowl emptied, it was replaced with a full one. At the end of the meal, there was as much food on the table as ever. Nilda could not imagine so much food.