A Season of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Such a delightful time,” Miss Croggin said beside Nilda. “How will we ever be able to thank our hostess?”

  “I think the best way would be to attend next month too, and possibly bring a friend.”

  Miss Croggin dropped her voice to a whisper. “You’d think with this percentage of men, more young women would want to come.”

  “I agree. I know of several young women who want to come from Norway in the worst way, but earning fare for a ticket is difficult.”

  “So I understand. We moved here from St. Paul nearly a year ago so my father could work in the mill. He is rather protective of his daughters, so this was a perfect opportunity to . . . you know.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “Did I hear right that you knew Mr. Nygaard in Norway?”

  “Yes.”

  “He seems so charming.” Miss Croggin nodded slightly. “You are from the same area?”

  “Same village.” Stay away from him! How could she say that without sounding terribly petty or even jealous? Tonight he was showing the side that captivated women. Was he different with those who worked at his home in Norway? Had he learned his lesson and changed? Somehow that did not seem like a possibility. But wouldn’t banishment from home and country be sufficient cause to change?

  Her mor’s old saying tiptoed through her mind. Can a leopard change his spots?

  No, but people could change; after all, God was in the people-changing business, wasn’t He? She wanted to rub away the headache that never had completely disappeared.

  The evening couldn’t end soon enough for her.

  “Would you two care to join me in my favorite room and enjoy the fire for a bit before you go to bed?” Mrs. Schoenleber asked Nilda and Ivar when the last guest was out the door. “I have some questions I would like to ask, but they can wait until morning if you prefer.”

  “Of course,” Ivar answered before looking at Nilda, who only shrugged, hoping he did not see the pain that was most likely showing in her eyes. The dimness of the hall lighting could help protect her.

  “I’ll order tea, unless you would rather have coffee or something else?”

  “Tea sounds good.” Nilda followed them into the cozy room and sank into one of the chintz-covered easy chairs in front of the welcoming fire. She sighed and let her eyelids drift closed. Such a peaceful place to be.

  “If you would rather go right up to bed . . .” Mrs. Schoenleber said.

  “No, but then, I might never move out of this chair either.” Nilda smiled at Mrs. Schoenleber. “Thank you for a very nice evening.” And for letting us stay here. The thought of making the long drive home at night made her want to shudder.

  “I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you came. Thank you, Stella, that will be all.” Mrs. Schoenleber poured the tea and handed them each a cup and saucer with a rolled cookie alongside it. “Now, do you have any suggestions on ways to improve our get-together?”

  Ivar looked at Nilda, and they both shook their heads. “But you realize we have nothing of this sort to compare it to,” Nilda explained.

  Sipping her tea, Mrs. Schoenleber nodded. “But you think everyone felt comfortable?” At their nods, she continued, “I hope to have music another time. You know my nephew, Fritz Larsson. I want him to play the piano for a sing-along, especially in December, but then we’d have to meet on a Friday night. I don’t want him riding back to his house in the night so he can play for church on Sunday.”

  “I hope he told you how much we appreciate the rosebushes,” Nilda said. “They are both looking healthy. What a marvelous surprise that was.”

  “I start roses and other cuttings out in my greenhouse in the backyard. I will show you sometime. A hobby of mine. Spirea and love-in-a-mist are really easy to start, as are geraniums. But back to thinking on this evening. I was surprised Petter invited Mr. Nygaard but pleased you could see someone from home.”

  Nilda stared into the fire. To answer or not?

  Ivar just nodded.

  Mrs. Schoenleber studied Nilda closely. “Why do I get the feeling you were not particularly pleased to see him?”

  “It is a long story and one best forgotten,” Nilda said. “Time will tell, as Mor always said when she was trying to make me see something I disagreed with.”

  “Hmm, this sounds more interesting all the time.” Mrs. Schoenleber set her teacup on the tray. “Enough questions for tonight. If you think of something later, please let me know. Do you plan to attend church with me here in Blackduck or leave early for your own?”

  Ivar scooted to the front of his chair. “I think we should leave early, if it is not too much trouble.”

  “Whichever is best for you. Breakfast will be ready at five. Someone will wake you if you want.”

  They both stood. “Thank you for giving us this gift.” Nilda included the room, the tea, and the entire house in her glance. “We will see you in the morning, then.”

  Mrs. Schoenleber was sitting at the dining room table reading a newspaper when they entered the room the next morning.

  “Good Sunday morning. I trust you slept well?” she said.

  Nilda glanced at Ivar, who nodded also. “How could one not sleep in a bed like that?” Ivar pulled her chair out, which earned him a surprised grin, then sat down beside her.

  “Now, tell Charles what you would like.”

  “We have bacon, eggs, biscuits, toast, oatmeal, fruit, and I’m sure Cook would make pancakes if you would rather.” Charles waited patiently for their orders.

  “Toast with bacon and eggs and fruit please,” Nilda said, and Ivar nodded his agreement.

  When their plates were served and admired, Nilda asked if Mrs. Schoenleber was going to eat too.

  “Oh, I have already finished. But I have something I would like to discuss with you, Nilda.”

  Nilda laid her fork down, the better to pay attention.

  “No, no, go ahead and eat. I know you need to get on the road. I would like to offer you a position here in my home as my assistant, two days a week.”

  Nilda stared at the smiling woman. “What could I possibly do for you?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I will find plenty for you to do. Mostly things like errands that I do not like to do. Accompanying me to some meetings, all manner of things. I would like you to spend two nights of the week here, and I will pay you on the first of the month. Does this sound agreeable to you?”

  “You don’t mean cleaning, laundry, that kind of thing?”

  “No, I already have a well-trained staff to do all those things. I can tell you learn quickly and do not succumb to vapors or fear. Oh, and I will provide you with a wardrobe appropriate for whatever I ask you to do. I really think it might be an adventure for you.”

  Nilda looked to Ivar, who raised his eyebrow with a slight tip of his head. Definitely an agreement sign.

  “You don’t have to decide immediately,” Mrs. Schoenleber said. “Think on it.”

  Nilda already knew her answer. “Since my mor is coming and could help out as necessary on the farm, I am honored to be offered such an opportunity. Thank you. I accept.”

  “Good. I was hoping you would say that. I have one requirement—that you learn to read and write well in English. I will see that you have instruction.”

  Nilda nodded. “Of course.” But inside, her heart banged against her ribs. “When would I start? Could it be after Mor arrives in a week?”

  “Yes, of course.” Mrs. Schoenleber sat back just a tiny bit. “Wonderful.”

  After many thank-yous and good wishes, Ivar guided Rosie to the road to Benson’s Corner. “Now, that was some surprise,” he said.

  “Ja, with Dreng Nygaard the only dark spot. The fear that came upon me. I could not believe it when I heard his voice.”

  “You have to admit, he has changed a great deal.”

  “I have my doubts but shall keep them to myself.”

  At least I don’t have to have an acquaintance with him, other than last night. I imag
ine Signe will have something to say about this. And Mor. Mor might know more from the Nygaard family in Valders. Surely Dreng’s mor would brag about whatever she had learned, if her son ever wrote home. He must have, to find out where Nilda was living.

  She and Ivar slid into their seats at church just as the organ broke into the opening hymn.

  “The puma came back,” Bjorn announced the moment the service ended.

  “And he missed.” Knute gave his brother a disgusted look.

  “What happened?” Ivar asked.

  “I was dozing. The pigs squealing woke me up. I couldn’t see where to shoot, so I fired into the air, and that cat was over the fence and across the field in a flash. They sure can run.”

  “Did it get another pig?”

  “No, but a couple got scratched, and one had teeth marks on his neck. They can’t get away, locked in that small space. Mr. Edmonds said pumas were really strong and fast.” Knute shook his head. “We gotta get him.”

  “I’d like to ask Mr. Edmonds more questions. You think he would mind, Far?” Bjorn asked.

  “He said stop by anytime, and I don’t think he is a man to say something like that lightly.” Rune glanced at Bjorn, who was driving the wagon. “Learn all you can. And if you get the puma, you can repay his time with the carcass.”

  Nilda knew Ivar was as interested as Bjorn in talking with the hunter again. It was surprising how interests could change when one was exposed to new things. She thought of the social the night before.

  “So, how was the party?” Signe asked.

  “We had a rather big surprise.” That was one word for it.

  “Ja, and what might that be?”

  “Petter invited a new friend of his, someone else from Norway. He thought we would be pleased.” Nilda shook her head. “I nearly fainted when I heard Dreng Nygaard’s voice.”

  Signe gaped at her in shock. “Dreng Nygaard is in Blackduck?”

  “In person, only this young man was so charming, if you didn’t know better, you might believe he was a nice person. Ivar said, what if he has learned his lesson and changed?”

  “And you believe that?”

  “The other young women there were delighted with him. He was polite, smiling, and a model gentleman. He even charmed Mrs. Schoenleber.”

  “Did you say something to her?”

  “No, if he really has changed . . .” Nilda gazed at the farm they were passing. “Then would it be fair to brand him with what he was before?”

  “But what if he hurts someone here, and we knew about him and did not warn anyone?”

  Nilda sighed. “Ja, there is that.” She thought back to the way he had treated her at home. “Indeed, there is that.”

  Chapter

  11

  Rune rubbed his eyes. Sometimes the pain made him want to bang his head on a wall. “It’s hard to believe that I will see Mor again this side of heaven. I never thought it possible.”

  “And we finally have our cookstove in the kitchen in spite of all the delays.”

  All he and his helpers had to do now was set up the stovepipe and pray the chimney worked. Someday they might even have another stove in the parlor or front room. He had installed the vents for one.

  “All this, our dreams coming true.” He held out his hand. Signe took it with a smile.

  “We are indeed most blessed. During those months we were slaving for Onkel Einar and Tante Gerd, I was beginning to think life would be like that forever.”

  Rune nodded. “But he taught me so much about cutting down the big pines and the whole logging business. He was a worker.”

  Signe snorted. “He was a cruel taskmaster who could think of nothing but the trees, with no regard for anyone or anything else.”

  Rune stared at her. “You hated him. Signe, he can no longer hurt our boys or us, or Gerd. You need to forgive him.”

  Signe wagged her head slowly, as if it were heavy and unmanageable. “I-I don’t think I can. How am I to forgive him for his cruelty to Leif, who is the most caring child I know, who prayed for him and tried so hard to be good to him? Who felt sorry for him? And Gerd—he nearly killed her.”

  “But he did bring us here so you could help her get well again.”

  “Ja, so she could resume doing all the farm chores so he could spend his days out in the woods.”

  Oh, my Signe. He dropped his voice. “But Jesus said to forgive, as we are forgiven.” He reached out for her, but she backed up. “Please, my Signe, if you don’t forgive, bitterness will eat you alive. You can’t let it grow and take over your heart.” This time when he reached for her, she came into his arms. He stroked the beautiful hair she had been brushing before going to bed. “Lord, help my Signe forgive Onkel Einar. He is beyond hurt, but she is not.”

  They got into bed, but Rune could not quiet his thoughts.

  Mor is on American soil. Mor is here somewhere. Morning and the day’s work would come early, but Rune couldn’t sleep. He wandered out onto the porch and sat with his boys as they prepared for the vigil, since they’d missed a couple of nights. Knute would keep watch for the puma with Bjorn from up in the haymow.

  “If it comes on your watch, just touch my shoulder,” Bjorn said. “They have good hearing too, you know.”

  “I know, but remember Mr. Edmonds said to take your time to get the shot.”

  “I learned one thing—you can’t get excited.”

  The two boys hopped off the porch and headed for the barn.

  Finally Rune went upstairs. He tried to slip between the covers without disturbing Signe, but she was awake.

  She said in the darkness, “You think they’ll ever get it?” She laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “They’ve got as good a chance as anyone. Bjorn is shooting more surely all the time. I think the night he missed, like he said, he got excited. He’s mighty determined.”

  He found her hand and lifted it to his mouth. One kiss on the palm, and then he held it to cup his cheek. The darkness that surrounded them closed out the rest of the house, cocooning the two of them in their rope-strung bed. “Come. Let us pray together.” He began, “Our Father who art in heaven . . .” With a sniff, she joined him, both of them saying the words carefully, as if to engrave them on their hearts.

  He kissed her face. “And tomorrow will be a new day, a wonderful day.”

  “Ja, a new day.”

  The moon hung in the west, and when the pigs squealed, the dog flew down the stairs, and the rifle fired once.

  Even from their bedroom, they could hear the boys whooping. Before Rune could get halfway down the stairs, he heard another shot.

  “Bjorn! Are you all right?” he called as he slammed the back door.

  “We’re fine.”

  Rune breathed a prayer of thanks as he trotted up to the pen. Leaning against the fence, he saw that the boys had let the hogs out into the bigger pen and were standing over a tan form that lay inert on the ground. He pushed open the gate. “You sure he’s dead?”

  “I put the second bullet in his head for good measure.” Bjorn stood with his rifle in the crook of his arm, pointing toward the ground. “He’s kind of skinny. You can see his ribs. Look at those claws.”

  “I’ll get a lantern.” Knute passed his far at a run.

  “No wonder those pigs were scratched up.” Bjorn moved a front paw with the tip of the rifle barrel.

  “Careful!” Rune stopped beside him. The cat lay stretched out on the ground, blood puddling just behind his front leg and his head, the odor rising like a miasma. “Good shooting, son.”

  Knute ran up with the lighted lantern and held it so they could really inspect the beast. Rune knelt by the puma’s head and lifted a tawny lip. “See why he’s skinny? He’s old, and half his teeth are gone.”

  Bjorn squatted down beside his far. “He’s still strong enough to lift a pig over that fence.” He blew out a breath. “I’m glad it isn’t a female, or Leif would have had us all out looking for her den.”


  “And if we found ’em, we’d have to shoot them too.” Knute sounded relieved.

  Rune stood back up. “Well, let’s haul it out of here so the pigs will come in for morning feeding. Knute, get a rope, will you? We can tie his feet together and slide a pole between his legs to carry him out.”

  By the time they had shut the carcass in the machine shed, both boys were yawning.

  They dipped water from the bucket on the porch and washed their hands before going in the house, where they took off their boots at the door.

  “I’m proud of you two,” Rune said.

  “Thanks, Far. Morning’s going to be here before we know it.”

  “Did they get it?” Signe asked as he sat on the edge of the bed a few minutes later.

  “Ja.” He slid back under the covers. “Whatever my dreams were about coming to the new land, they did not include lions.” And he fell asleep.

  The next morning at breakfast, Knute asked, “Can we take the puma to Mr. Edmonds as soon as we get home from school?”

  “Bestemor will most likely be here by then.”

  “Oh. But Mr. Edmonds might not want it if it has started to spoil.”

  “Bjorn and I will take it over right away.” Rune nodded to Knute. “I’m sorry, but we will have to do it this way. And no, you cannot miss school for such a thing as this.”

  Rune caught Signe’s nod as the boys headed out the door. The glare Knute shot his way made him wag his head.

  Signe asked, “Can I get you anything else?”

  Both he and Bjorn shook their heads. “We’ll get this done immediately. Bjorn, please go hitch up the wagon. I’ll meet you at the machine shed.” But when Gerd raised the coffeepot, Rune sat back down in his chair. “Takk.”