Other Brother

by Dooley, Lena Nelson

  How had Olina gotten under his skin so much? Was it because he wanted to make up for what Lars did to hurt her? When she broke down and cried at the hotel, it touched Gustaf’s heart. What he felt was pity, wasn’t it? Then the next morning, Olina was somehow stronger. He had watched her, and he could see an iron will that kept her from showing the outside world how much she had been hurt. He admired that.

  Three

  Would this train ride never end? The benches that had felt comfortable when they left New York were now almost too hard to bear. Olina squirmed, trying to find a softer spot, but to no avail. Most of her body was sore. She thought about Lars, and tears pooled in her eyes. When she thought about her family back in Sweden, the same thing happened. She would not cry. Crying didn’t help anything. Olina wished she had something to read, but the newspaper Gustaf bought in New York City was in English. She couldn’t read a word of it.

  Olina’s thoughts drifted to Tant Olga. What would she have done without her great-aunt?

  About a year after Lars moved to America, Tant Olga asked if Olina would move into town to take care of her. At first Olina hadn’t wanted to leave her beloved farm near the fjords. But she was glad when she did.

  Tant Olga had fallen in love with a sailor when she was young. She married him against her family’s wishes. Farbror Art had worked hard until he bought his own ship. As the wife of a merchant seaman, Tant Olga had enjoyed a life of plenty. Then her husband had been swept from the deck of his ship in a storm, leaving Tant Olga a wealthy woman. Art and Olga never had children of their own.

  Tant Olga was an old woman when she asked Olina to live with her. She said she would pay Olina to take care of her. Olina had been worried that all she would do would be a drudge for Tant Olga. That had not been the case.

  The two women, so far apart in age, were kindred spirits. Tant Olga helped Olina become the woman she was today. Climbing the stairs in the three-story house and eating smaller portions of foods that weren’t so rich helped Olina slim down. Tant Olga taught Olina to be a lady instead of a farm girl.

  They enjoyed taking outings. The two of them even read the newspapers together, because they wanted to know what was going on in the world. Olina had written about these things in her letters to Lars. They discussed current events through their letters.

  When Lars sent the money to come to America, Olina hadn’t known what to do. Her father had forbidden her to go. But Tant Olga hadn’t. When Tant Olga learned that her nephew opposed the trip, she assured Olina that he didn’t mean it. She was convinced that when Olina asserted her independence and started on the journey, he would come to his senses and change his mind. Her father had changed his mind after she married Art. Olina hoped that would be the case with her own fader.

  She didn’t want to think about her father. She didn’t want to cry again, so she pushed thoughts of him out of her head. Instead she returned to those days before her journey started.

  Tant Olga helped her buy new clothes with the money she had saved. Tant Olga hadn’t let Olina pay for anything she needed while she was staying with her, and she still paid her a wage for taking care of her. Over and over again, Olina told Tant Olga that she felt as though she were taking advantage of her, but Tant Olga didn’t agree.

  They studied the fashion books and bought the most popular fabrics. Tant Olga taught Olina how to sew and embroider and make lace. So when Olina made many of her clothes, they were the latest fashions, with extra touches. Tant Olga also helped her find a dressmaker who made other things for Olina when she was preparing for the journey to America.

  Tant Olga even asked around until she found that Johanna needed someone to go with her so she could join her husband in America. Without Tant Olga’s help, Olina wouldn’t be on this train somewhere in the interior of the vast country of America.

  The train whistle cut through Olina’s thoughts.

  “This is our stop, Olina.” Gustaf’s words followed the sound. “Welcome to Litchfield, Minnesota.”

  Olina peeked out the window as the train slowed. The town of Litchfield spread on both sides of the tracks. It looked like many of the small towns they had come through on the long trip from New York City. Olina saw a mercantile and a livery stable near the tracks on one side. Other buildings surrounded them. One looked like a hotel. Even a building that appeared to be a saloon was nearby. On the other side of the tracks, the buildings looked more like homes. She saw a church steeple sticking up from a grove of trees that obscured much of that side of the town.

  When the train came to a stop, Gustaf took Olina’s hand to help her stand. Olina couldn’t explain the funny feeling she had every time Gustaf touched her. Maybe it was because she had been traveling so long.

  Olina stood poised on the platform and looked around. Beyond the depot, dirt streets were trimmed with wooden sidewalks. Hitching posts stood sentinel in front of various buildings, but they were different from the hitching posts in most of Europe. These were connected by a board. Many people were making use of both the sidewalks and the hitching posts. Single horses, horses with buggies, and horses with wagons were tied to several of the posts. Litchfield was a town full of life. Olina liked that.

  As Olina continued her perusal of the town, she noticed that there were several stores down one street away from the depot. Maybe Litchfield was a larger town than she had first thought. She turned, looking for Gustaf. She spied him claiming her trunks from the baggage wagon. He pulled one up on his shoulders as if it didn’t weigh much, but Olina knew better. She couldn’t get the trunks down the stairs at Tant Olga’s. The wagon driver helped bring them down when she was going to the ship.

  Gustaf deposited the trunk beside the two carpetbags, which he had placed on a bench that ran the full length of the depot. Then he went back for the other. Olina walked over to stand beside the luggage.

  “I’m going to leave you here to guard our bags.” He didn’t look at her while he was talking. Instead he looked around as if trying to see who was at the station. “I left my wagon at the livery. I’ll go get it. You’ll be safe waiting with our bags. I’ll be back soon.”

  With long strides, he stepped off the station platform and marched to the livery. Olina sat beside the trunk. She was glad the bench was in the shade. The late morning sun was hotter than she thought it would be in April. Olina would be glad when they got to the Nilssons’ farm. She could hardly wait to freshen up. And she wanted clean clothes. On the trip from New York City, she had changed her waist a couple of times with fresh waists she had packed in her carpetbag. But she had worn these clothes too long.

  What she actually needed was a bath. She would love to soak in a bathtub, such as Tant Olga had in her upstairs bathroom, filled with tepid water. One like she used in the hotel in New York City. She needed to wash her hair. It felt as if it were sticking to her scalp. They couldn’t get to the farm any too soon for her.

  When Olina heard a wagon pull up beside the platform, she turned to see if it was Gustaf. It was, but he didn’t look happy.

  “I’m afraid we’re not going straight to the farm. Mother sent a list to August at the livery, asking that I pick some things up at the mercantile. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you.”

  Why did he sound so formal? It made Olina uncomfortable. “No, that’ll be just fine, for sure.”

  Gustaf helped her up from the bench, then took her arm and lifted her into the wagon. While she was busy arranging her skirt on the seat, Gustaf crossed in front of the team of matched black horses. He took time to whisper to the horses and caress their faces before he climbed into the wagon. The seat was wide, but Gustaf was a big man. His presence beside her seemed to crowd Olina.

  “Just wait here,” Gustaf said as he stopped the wagon in front of a store that was about a block from the train station. “I’ll be right back.” Gustaf stepped down and tied the horses to the hitching post.

  At least he had parked in the shade. Olina was still hotter than she wanted to be. She glan
ced into the open door of the store. It looked cool inside. What could it hurt if she moved out of the heat?

  With that thought, Olina clambered down from the wagon and stepped into the cool interior of the store. What a lot of merchandise they carried. Why, she could probably get anything she would ever need right here. Olina noticed a display of fabrics on a far wall. She made her way through the crowded store and started feeling the texture of various pieces.

  A soft feminine voice sounded behind Olina. Olina turned and glanced at the blond girl who stood there. Then she moved as close to the fabric as she could. She had not understood what the young woman said. She guessed that she might want to get by.

  “Olina Sandstrom?” Now the voice was excited.

  Olina looked once again. “Were you talking to me?” she asked in Swedish.

  “Ja,” the girl answered and continued in Swedish. “Don’t you know me? It’s Merta Petersson. We used to live near you.”

  “Of course.” Olina reached to hug the girl. Finally someone she knew and who spoke the same language she did. “But I would have never known you. How old were we when you moved? Seven or eight? You’ve really changed, for sure.”

  “You have, too.” Merta nodded. “But I would recognize you anywhere. You always had the most beautiful eyes.”

  Olina blushed at the compliment. “Do you live here in Litchfield?”

  “I do now. Until last week, I lived on a farm with my family, but I got married.” Now Merta was blushing. “How did you get here?” Merta looked around the store to see who was there. “Who are you with?”

  “I’m with Gustaf Nilsson.” Olina couldn’t help wondering if Merta knew that Lars sent her the money to come to America, but she didn’t want to ask her, in case she didn’t. She also wondered if Merta knew about Lars’s marriage. Gustaf had indicated that the family had just found out about it. Maybe no one else in town knew yet.

  “Yes. I saw his wagon outside,” Merta said. “I’m so glad you are visiting here. I hope we can spend some time together before you go home.”

  “I’m sure we can.” Olina noticed Gustaf heading toward the door. “I would like that,” she added before turning and following him out the door.

  Four

  Gustaf started the horses moving toward the edge of town. Olina had a lot to think about. Merta was married now.

  She didn’t even tell me what her married name was. Maybe Gustaf knows.

  “Did you see Merta in the store?” she asked as she turned her gaze toward him.

  “Yes.”

  “She told me she was married, but she didn’t tell me her married name.”

  “It’s Swenson.” The curt answer spurted from Gustaf’s stiff lips.

  What’s wrong with him now? Is he always in a bad mood?

  Olina hoped the farm wasn’t too far from town. She was ready to talk to someone besides this sullen man. She took a deep breath to keep from sighing. How easy it would be to give in to the desolation that threatened to engulf her. At this moment, she had no one to depend on. No matter what awaited her at the farm, she would take care of herself.

  Olina didn’t know what the rest of the Nilsson family thought about what had happened. She wasn’t even sure what Gustaf thought about it. Except he called her a mess that had to be cleaned up. He said he would take care of her, but she didn’t want him taking care of her.

  Olina liked this Minnesota. Although the land was flat with a few small rolling hills, it was beautiful. Tall green prairie grass blew in the gentle breeze. Dotted over the green were patches of prairie flowers. Some were white, some pink or yellow. Olina wondered what they were called. They were unlike any flowers she had seen in Sweden. No wonder everything looked so green. She often caught glimpses of water shining through the grass. The farms they passed had many of their fields in cultivation, covered with bright green shoots of some kind.

  When they first left town, Olina asked a few questions, but Gustaf answered in monosyllables. Soon she gave up.

  ❧

  After the few attempts at conversation, Gustaf also rode quietly, thinking his own thoughts. He didn’t point out the beautiful wild flowers, or the small lakes, or even the road to their neighbor’s farm. He sat berating himself. Maybe if he had made Lars face his own mistakes, he would have learned to be more responsible.

  He couldn’t even imagine what Olina must be going through, but he was beginning to admire her. He wished he could be more help to her; but whenever he thought about the last few days, anger still boiled up inside him. He didn’t know who he was the angriest at, Lars or himself.

  When they reached the farm, decisions had to be made about Olina. Would he have any say in what happened? He hoped that he would. He wanted to help this young woman who shared the wagon seat with him, so close that he could feel her even though they were not touching. He wanted to help her. Occasionally on the train, he caught a glimpse of the hurt that lingered deep within her. What could he have done to help prevent it?

  ❧

  “Our farm starts right here.” Gustaf pointed toward the fence line that divided the land on their right.

  The sound of his voice, after riding so far without talking, startled Olina. She jerked, then turned to look where he was pointing.

  “It’s still a ways before we come to the drive up to the house.”

  How could Gustaf sound as if everything were normal? Maybe he was right. Soon she would face the whole Nilsson family. She didn’t want to fall apart the first time someone spoke to her.

  “The crops look good.” Olina was surprised that her voice didn’t tremble. “What is growing in that field?”

  “This one has winter wheat,” Gustaf answered. “We’ll plant corn in the next field, though.”

  Olina didn’t think she had ever seen corn growing. She wondered if she would be here to see it.

  “Just past that field, we’ll turn in and head toward the house.”

  Olina gazed over the fields toward a grove of trees growing back from the road. “Is the house up there among the trees?”

  “Yes. We bought the farm from Ben Johnson’s widow. They had been on the farm for a long time. He was the one who built the house. The trees keep it cool in the summertime and protect it from some of the harsh winds in the winter.”

  Olina tried to see the house from where they were, but it was too far away. “Why did Mrs. Johnson sell such a wonderful farm?” Olina turned to look at Gustaf.

  “They didn’t have children, and she was getting older. She couldn’t run the farm by herself.”

  “Couldn’t she hire someone to help her?”

  “Yes, but she felt alone when Mr. Johnson died. She wanted to move back East with her sister. It was our good luck that she was ready to sell about the time we got here. No one else tried to buy it. It’s a big farm, so it cost quite a lot. After we sold everything we had in Sweden to come to Minnesota, we had enough money to buy it from her.”

  Gustaf turned the horses down a long drive bordered on one side by a plowed field and on the other side by another field of wheat. “She didn’t want to move all of her furniture across the country. I think her sister had married a wealthy merchant in some city back east. She already had a nice house full of furniture. We were able to move in and live right away. Of course, over time, Mother has made the house into her own home.”

  When Gustaf chuckled at that, Olina was able to laugh along with him, at least a little. She remembered how homey Ingrid Nilsson’s house always was. How happy it made Ingrid and her family.

  ❧

  It was a little laugh, but Gustaf felt part of the heavy weight he had been carrying slip with the sound of it.

  Maybe, just maybe, Olina will be able to get over what Lars has done to her. And maybe someday she will forgive me.

  Five

  Gerda Nilsson must have heard the wagon coming up the long drive to the house, because she rushed out onto the porch. Olina was glad to see the friend she had grown up with. But the y
oung woman standing on the porch was no longer the girl who had romped through the meadows with her. Gerda’s hair was up in the new pompadour style that was coming into fashion. The pouf formed a soft blond halo that framed her delicate features, features that were so like the ones Olina remembered, and yet so different. But then, they both were.

  As Olina climbed down from the wagon seat, her gaze was drawn to the two-story farmhouse so different from the houses she was used to seeing in Sweden. Farmhouses back home were usually only one story. Instead of rock that was used over there, this American home was built of wood and painted white. Dark green shutters framed the windows on both the lower story and the upper story. Porches at home were small, but this house had a covered porch that spread along the lower story, covering at least three-fourths of it. White columns supported the roof of the porch, and a railing connected the columns except where steps led up to the porch.

  Olina thought it must be wonderful to sit in the inviting rocking chairs that were scattered the length of it. Three sat on either side of the front door. The house looked enormous to Olina, much larger than farmhouses in Sweden.

  “Olina!” Gerda rushed down the steps.

  “Gerda!” Olina scrambled over the side of the wagon, catching her foot in the hem of her skirt. She would have fallen if strong hands hadn’t caught her. She didn’t want to look at Gustaf. He might be able to see how much his touch affected her, even though she didn’t want it to. Her emotions were too close to the surface.

  Gerda threw her arms around Olina and held her as if she would never let go. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you so much.” She sounded as if she were about to cry.

  Maybe she would think that Olina was only emotional about seeing her. “I’ve missed you, too. It seems like forever since you left.”

  When the two girls finally pulled apart, tears were streaming down their faces. Gerda pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her apron and gently wiped Olina’s face. Then she dried her own tears.