A Season of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  “It sure seems strange here without Nilda and Ivar.” Gerd poured coffee refills and sat again. Nilda and Ivar had left early that morning to go to Blackduck to pick up Gunlaug, Selma, and Eric from the train station. “I’ll finish up the bread if you skim the cream pans, Signe. I can hardly believe this is the same house you all came to.”

  She nodded at the new curtains in the kitchen window and in the workroom, which had been her old bedroom. They had assembled the loom and spinning wheel, and both now waited to be used. Carded wool lay in a basket by the spinning wheel, and the string for the warp coiled beside the loom. What they needed was time, and that would be as soon as the garden was emptied of winter fare.

  “What’s for supper?” Rune asked.

  “Those two roosters I dressed last night are in the well house, ready to bake, and gingerbread is for dessert.” Signe smiled at him. “A real welcome-home meal.” A grin split her face. “I guess I’ll believe they’re really coming when they walk through that door.”

  “Me too. We won’t be gone long.” Rune set his coffee cup down and pushed back his chair. He chucked Kirstin under the chin, making her grin and reach for him. “You be good for your mor, little one. Today you will meet your bestemor, and if I know my mor, you and she will be inseparable.”

  “At least at first.” Signe jiggled her daughter on her hip and nuzzled her cheek. “And as long as Bestemor can catch you.”

  When Rune and Bjorn carried the puma out of the machine shop, the horses went wide-eyed and jerked forward.

  “Whoa, there.” Rune dropped the pole and leaped for the horses’ heads. “Easy now, you got nothing to worry about.” Stupid—he should have thought of this. Of course they would panic. “Easy now.” Both horses jigged in place but settled back down as he talked to them. They snorted, nostrils flared, ears flicking back and forth. He stroked their necks and waited patiently. “Go get your mor. We need another pair of hands.”

  Bjorn did as he was told, being careful not to spook the horses further.

  When they returned, Rune had the team calmed and waiting.

  “All right. I’m going to lead them ahead so they can’t see you as well. I wish we had blinders on these bridles. You two slide the carcass in the rear of the wagon. They can smell it, I know.”

  “Rune, they might run right over you,” Signe said.

  “No, no, they’ve calmed a lot.” He backed up, his hand on the reins under the snaffle bit of the nearest horse. “Come on, that thing can’t hurt you now.” He stopped but kept talking, working to keep their attention.

  Bjorn and Signe loaded the dead puma, shielding the cat from the horses as much as they could. The horses tossed their heads, jerking the wagon. Ignoring the jolt, Bjorn pulled the post and cat farther up in the wagon, and then he and Signe stepped back.

  “Good. Takk. Easy now.” He kept a hand on the nearest horse while Bjorn climbed up into the wagon and picked up the lines, pulling them snug enough that the team knew someone was now in control. After climbing up on the seat, Rune nodded to Signe. “Thank you. We’ll be back soon.”

  Moving briskly seemed to calm the horses even more. Mr. Edmonds greeted them as they trotted into his yard. “What brings you here?”

  “We brought you the puma.”

  “You got him?”

  Bjorn nodded. “Scared him off one time but hit him this last time in the night. The moon made a big difference.”

  “It would. Though it’s still hard to see in the shadows.” He motioned toward his work shed. “Come on, let’s get him out of there so your horses can calm down. They have an inborn fear of all prey animals, but especially this one that can drop down on a horse from a tree branch and kill him with one bite.”

  At the shop, Rune stood at the horses’ heads as Bjorn and Mr. Edmonds pulled the carcass out of the wagon and hauled it into the gray building. Rune joined them as soon as the horses settled.

  “I have to tell you, I didn’t think you could do this,” Edmonds said. “You’re good with that rifle. I’ve gone to several other farms around here to take care of a wild animal preying on sheep or cattle, but no one had any pigs to speak of. This old critter found an easy way to fill his stomach.” He pointed to the boxes on the wall. “Some of those marten hides are from chicken coops. I’m surprised you’ve not lost chickens to the varmints around here.”

  “I guess we should be grateful, eh?” Rune watched his son studying the hides and skins around the room.

  “Right. You see or smell any skunks yet?”

  “So far, no.” Bjorn shook his head.

  Rune smiled. “Sounds like we’ve been remarkably free of critters, so far.”

  “Well, I gotta thank you for bringing me this one.”

  Bjorn looked happy. And proud. “I could see it coming across the field. The pigs all got real restless too.”

  “They would. I owe you one, young man. Have you done anything about the rabbit skins?”

  “Not so far. They’re stiff on the wall.”

  “Take them down and soak them until they’re softened. Once they’re treated, you can make what you want. I saw a rabbit skin vest one time. Warm as can be. Best to keep the fur side in for warmth, but it looks good on the outside too.”

  “More good ideas.” Rune nodded again as they eased toward the wagon. “We’re still trying to finish our house. I figure that kind of thing can be for blizzard days or longer evenings. Say, do you ever dry fish?”

  “I have at times, but ice fishing helps us get through the winter. It’s hard to beat fresh fish any time of year. You tell that younger boy of yours that he can come fish anytime. Any of you can.”

  “What will you do with the puma hide?” Bjorn asked.

  “Skin him out right away, keep some meat for the dogs, and throw the rest out for the scavengers. It’s a shame to waste it, but we’re not that desperate. I’ll stretch the skin out to dry and then decide.”

  Rune stepped up to the wagon seat. “We better get back. My mor is coming in from Norway today.”

  “Good news.”

  “Mr. Edmonds, did I see snowshoes up on your wall?” Bjorn asked.

  “That you did. I made them years ago and have had to restring them a couple of times, but they’re the best mode of checking my trap lines.”

  “Far started making skis last year.”

  Mr. Edmonds nodded to him. “Skis are faster. How did yours do?”

  “I’ll finish the first pairs this fall. I’d never done it before, so I learned a lot.”

  “You Norwegians are famous for your skiing. What are you using for wood?”

  “Ash. My far used to make them. I still wish I had brought mine with me, but they took up too much room.”

  “If you ever decide to do snowshoes, I’ll show you.” Mr. Edmonds smiled at Bjorn.

  “Thank you.” Bjorn climbed up next to his far.

  Edmonds held out his hand, and Rune leaned over to shake it.

  “You seen any bears?” Bjorn asked. “I want a bear rug.”

  “Watch for tracks. They hibernate pretty soon, so think about next year.”

  “Ah, sir, could Knute and me come with you sometime on your trap line?”

  “You gotta have skis or snowshoes. I’ve got a couple extra pairs of snowshoes, though, so might be we can arrange that. It’ll be December at least, more than likely January.” He stepped away from the wagon. “Come on back anytime, and thanks for the puma.”

  Bjorn nodded. He clucked the horses into a trot once they were out on the road. “I think he really means for us to come back.” Suddenly he moaned, “Oh no!”

  Panic grabbed Rune. “What?”

  “I forgot to ask him about hunting ducks and geese. I was thinking maybe a fine goose for Christmas.”

  Anger almost replaced the panic. Rune took a deep breath and shook his head. “Don’t give me such a start!”

  “Sorry. But I’d love to hunt ducks and geese.”

  Rufus greeted them halfway up th
e lane, yipping and dancing his welcome as they neared the house.

  “They aren’t here yet, so unharness and let the team out in the field,” Rune said. “I’ll see if they need any help up here. If not, we’ll work in the shop so we’re close by.”

  Bjorn nodded and flipped the reins.

  Mor is in America.

  The fragrance of yeast greeted Rune when he stepped up on the porch. He could hear Kirstin chattering, most likely at the cat. Rufus bounded up the steps and waited at the door, tail wagging, body wriggling. Kirstin crawled her way over to sit and wave her hands, jabbering at the dog. When she saw Rune, she squealed and bounced in place, her plea for him to pick her up.

  “Well, looks like I’m even more important than the dog. How about that?” He scooped her up and stood at the door, looking around. “Smells wonderful in here.”

  “When do you think they’ll be here?” Signe asked.

  “I figured before dinner.” He looked up at the clock. “We’ve got an hour to go. If you don’t need anything, Bjorn and I will be in the shop.”

  Mor. Rune felt like dancing.

  Chapter

  12

  It wasn’t raining anymore, but the swirling mist almost felt like rain. Nilda stood underneath the train station overhang beside Ivar. Mor was here at last, but what a terrible price to pay: Far, dead too young, gone forever. Nilda was so full of emotions, she could not sort them out. She could not think clearly.

  One thing she knew for sure. Today they would put sorrow aside. Today they would celebrate and be happy. Mor was here in America! And Nilda could not stop grinning. She was glad she could greet her mor with a big happy smile in spite of it all. And very shortly the train would arrive.

  With Mor and Selma.

  Ivar stepped out to look up at the station clock. “Almost time. I wonder why Rune didn’t come.”

  “I asked him if he was sure, and he said, ‘That’s all right. You welcome them to this new land, but I will welcome them home.’” Nilda smiled at the thought.

  In the distance, the train hooted. Mor was almost here. A gray cloud of coal smoke boiled up above the trees. Finally, here came the engine. It was shining wet and glistening, except for the hot boiler. It pulled into the station and ground to a hissing, steamy stop.

  There they were! Mor and Selma stepped off the train onto the platform and immediately turned back toward the baggage car, walking quickly. Selma’s little boy scurried along as best he could. He seemed so small. Ivar started toward them, so Nilda hurried along behind him.

  “I’m glad we brought the wagon,” Ivar commented. “I think most of that luggage is theirs.”

  The stationmaster was stacking up a pile of two trunks, several carpetbags, and a crate. Now he threw yet another carpetbag on the pile. Mor and Selma stopped beside the tower of luggage. Then Mor glanced toward Nilda and Ivar, and the most wonderful smile spread across her face.

  Nilda broke into a run, greeting smile with smile. Her mother started jogging toward her, arms outstretched. Nilda’s smile disappeared, dissolving in tears. She ran into her mother’s open arms and clung to her, buried her face in her mor’s shoulder, and wept with huge shuddering gulps. So many emotions, and they all poured out at once. “Oh, Mor! Mor!” She held on tighter.

  “Nilda, Nilda! Ivar!” Mor pulled Ivar in against her.

  Nilda straightened and stepped back, still sobbing. So much for cheerful intentions. Mor dug into her big pocketbook and pulled out a handkerchief.

  Ivar was just unwrapping his arms from Selma. Nilda stepped in and hugged her warmly. “Welcome to America, Selma.”

  “Takk. I don’t see any mountains on the horizon.”

  “They’re all in Norway yet. So is the cod.”

  “There is no cod? Uff da!” But Selma was grinning.

  Finally Nilda’s smile made it to her face. They loaded the baggage into the wagon and almost had no room for themselves. Selma sat on carpetbags, holding her son, Eric. Eric did not seem particularly happy to be in the New World, but he was only five.

  “I feel I’m in shock.” Gunlaug sat on the wagon seat next to Ivar.

  “I felt the same way.” Nilda turned on the bench behind the wagon seat so she could see her mor. “Everything can be overwhelming. So many differences, so much to see.”

  “But there’s no rush. You don’t have to remember the way back to Blackduck or anything.” Ivar grinned at his mor. “You’ll be living in Tante Gerd’s house with us. She is living with Rune and Signe so she is not far from Kirstin. As far as she’s concerned, the sun rises and sets on that baby. She says it’s the closest she can be to having a grandchild, something she never dreamed she’d have, with no children of her own.”

  “It’s a shame they never had children,” Gunlaug said with a sad shake of her head. She turned to look at Nilda. “I pray that never happens to either of you.”

  “Give us time, Mor. We’re not courting or being courted, even.”

  Ivar hastened to add, “Although there are a couple of young men with an eye for Nilda. I’m far too young to be thinking of courting, let alone marriage.”

  “I thought you were a bit sweet on Lisle Olson in Valders.” Gunlaug nudged Ivar in the ribs.

  Nilda snorted. “Look at his neck getting red.”

  “Ja, possibly, but that was Norway, and now I live in America, and I will become an American citizen as soon as I can.” He pointed ahead. “This is Benson’s Corner coming up. The school and the church are there, along with a store that sells everything, including feed and some machinery parts.”

  “And if they don’t have it, Mrs. Benson will get an order to come out on the train. She—well, both she and her husband have been such good friends to Rune and Signe in spite of the way Einar threatened everyone off his land. She was a big help both before and after Kirstin was born.” Nilda turned to Selma. Eric was firmly gripping her shawl, his eyes as big as fried eggs. “If all works well, your place will be about a mile or so straight north on this road and then to the right. He’s a fine man and a real hard worker. It’s hard to get by with two small children and no relatives around to help.” Nilda patted Eric’s knee. “And you will soon meet our baby Kirstin. She is too little to walk yet, but you might play with her anyway. She’s pretty funny.”

  Eric moved closer to his mor, if that was possible, scrunching his eyes as if Nilda had struck him. Selma put her arm around the quivering little boy. “It’s all right, Eric, we will be to Cousin Rune’s farm soon. I heard they have a puppy and cats and horses and cows.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “I know you do, but this will be our new home.” Selma lifted him onto her lap and wrapped both arms around him, rocking him gently with the sway of the wagon.

  Nilda knew how he felt, like all the world he knew had been taken from him.

  “H-have you met Mr. Kielund’s children?” Selma asked.

  “No, but we saw them in church. The little boy is about five, I think, and the little girl three or so. We did everything so fast, and with all that has gone on at our place to make it possible for you to come with Mor, a lot of things did not get done. We thought to let you settle in for a couple of days and then meet them at church on Sunday. Our Reverend Skarstead is the one who approached Mr. Kielund with this idea.”

  “B-but . . .” She looked down at her son. “We will talk later.”

  “That is best.”

  Nilda smiled as Ivar pointed out the other farms and told Mor everything he had learned about the area. “And here is our lane.” The team turned in without even a twitch of the lines and tried to pick up their trot. “The horses are always glad to get home. See, that is our house. I have to remember that Gerd said it is no longer hers. Mor, the Tante Gerd you will meet soon is not at all like the Tante Gerd Signe and Rune wrote home about. Not that they ever said how bad it really was, but we’ve learned more in bits and pieces, especially from Gerd herself. Right, Nilda?”

  “Yes. Oh, and we are t
rying speak English more at home. Leif has learned the most, but he and Knute use it all the time in school. That makes a difference.”

  “I tried to learn some, but I didn’t get very far.” Gunlaug wagged her head. “It is not easy, let me tell you.” She nodded to the woman behind her. “And Selma didn’t have a chance at all.”

  “Well, Leif will teach you,” Ivar said. “You won’t recognize him. Knute either. They’ve grown so much.”

  “Partly because they eat so much better here. You will be amazed at all the food we canned, shelves and shelves of jars in the cellar,” Nilda said. “And we smoked a lot of meat too.”

  Rune and Signe waved from the porch while the boys ran out to meet them, Rufus dashing ahead.

  “Bestemor!” Leif danced beside the wagon. “We thought you’d never get here.”

  Eric peeked around his mor. “Big boys.”

  “Ja, they must seem that way to you. You knew them in Norway before they moved here.” Selma kept a comforting arm around the quivering little boy.

  When Ivar stopped the wagon by the back porch, Rune helped his mor down over the wheel and to the ground, where she wrapped both arms around him and laugh-cried into his chest. He held her close and let her cry.

  “I never thought I would see you again either,” he whispered. “But now you are here, and you can begin a new life.”

  She nodded and mopped her face. “I-I wanted Thor to come too.”

  “I know, but he couldn’t. Some people come and go back because they miss Norway so much. Others like Far can’t bear to leave in the first place. But he made his choice, and you honored that. See, God is good—you both got what you wanted.”

  She sniffed again. “Ja, but he left, and I never even got to say good-bye.” The tears started anew.

  Nilda hugged her mor too. “Remember, you will see him again, but I hope not for a long time. We all want you here with us for years to come. Now, come and meet your newest granddaughter. She’s a bit shy of strangers at first, but she warms up pretty fast.” She tucked Gunlaug’s arm in her own and led her up the steps.

  Signe’s smile could have lit the night sky. “Gunlaug, I-I . . .” She sniffed and swayed with Kirstin, who stared at the woman before her, one finger in her mouth. “I want you to meet our Kirstin. Baby, this is your bestemor, and she has come to live with us.”