Other Brother

by Dooley, Lena Nelson

  “I could take you,” Gustaf said from the hallway.

  His voice startled Olina. When had he come in? She hadn’t heard the door open. She had been too wrapped up in what was going on.

  “I’m going to town tomorrow.” Gustaf was drying his hands on a towel from the kitchen, so he had been in the house long enough to wash his hands. “You girls can ride along. How about it?”

  “Sure,” Gerda answered before Olina could decline.

  Olina knew she should refuse. She had little money. She wanted to keep what little she had in case her father refused to send her the money to go home.

  All eyes had turned to her, and she needed to give an answer. It might not hurt to ride along with them. She might have to tell Gerda why she was not spending her money, but she didn’t want the rest of the family to know that Fader had rejected her when she left Sweden. That was one secret she was in no hurry to share.

  After supper, the girls were upstairs in Olina’s room looking at more of the drawings they had made. Gerda picked out four of them.

  “I want to get fabric to make these four for me.” She pointed out two more of them. “Mother would look good in these. What kind of fabric are you going to buy?”

  Olina looked at the floor for a minute. She traced the pattern in the carpet with the toe of her black high-top shoe. “I won’t be buying any.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to spend the money I have left. I might need it.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll get you some fabric with our order.”

  “I couldn’t take it.” Olina looked up at her friend. “Besides, I have all these new clothes I brought with me.”

  ❧

  Soon after breakfast, Gustaf pulled the wagon to the front of the house. The day was fresh and new as the girls stepped out into the brisk morning air. The sun had come up, and the rooster was still occasionally crowing as he pranced across the yard.

  When they reached the wagon, Olina was trying to figure out how she could get up without Gustaf touching her. Then he placed his hands on her waist and swung her effortlessly across the wagon wheel. In the blink of an eye, she was sitting on the bench seat beside Gerda.

  Gustaf walked around the front of the wagon. He stopped by each horse and gave it a bite of something he had in his pocket. Olina watched him, all the while still feeling where the heat of his hands had touched her. Her skin burned, and her stomach was in turmoil. This was going to be a long day.

  “You haven’t been to town, except to go to church, have you, Olina?” Gustaf’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  “No, not since the day I arrived,” she whispered.

  “How long have you been here?” Gustaf picked up the reins and clicked his tongue to start the horses.

  Was the man going to ask her questions all the way to town? “It’s been about two months, hasn’t it?” she said.

  Gerda looked at Olina and must have noticed how uncomfortable she was, because she changed the subject. “Gustaf, we haven’t seen Anna since the night of the party. And you have not gone over to the Jensons’, have you?”

  Gustaf’s face seemed to close up. “No,” he grunted.

  “I’m not trying to make you mad.” Gerda looked frustrated. “I was just wondering.”

  Gustaf heaved a gigantic sigh. “Well, wonder no longer, Little Sister. I have not said anything about it, but Anna and I are not seeing each other any more.”

  Why did that unsettle Olina? It shouldn’t make any difference to her, but a small weight lifted from her heart.

  When they reached Litchfield, Gustaf took the young women to the mercantile. He needed to get some work done at the blacksmith’s, and he was going by the bank. He promised to return for them in time for the three of them to go to the restaurant at the hotel for lunch.

  Gerda pulled Olina along with her as she rushed to see if there were any new bolts of fabric on the shelves. Looking past Gerda, Olina spied several bolts of colorful silk on the shelf beside the cotton bolts.

  “Oh, look, Gerda.” She pointed to a color that was neither pink nor lavender. “Isn’t it lovely?”

  Gerda reached for the bolt just as Mrs. Braxton came to help them. “Is this new?”

  “We have never had silk this color before. They call it mauve. I think the name is French. Would you like me to cut you some?” Mrs. Braxton reached for the scissors under the counter. “We have refinished this counter so it won’t damage the silk.”

  Olina smoothed her hand across the wooden counter. “It feels nice. It shouldn’t snag anything.”

  Gerda put her finger on her cheek and thought a minute. “I want ten yards of the silk.”

  “What are you going to make with it?” Olina fingered the fabric, enjoying the smoothness.

  “I want to copy one of the dresses you brought with you, and I think I’ll make a matching bonnet.”

  Mrs. Braxton looked at the new dress Gerda was wearing. “Where did you get the pattern for that dress you have on? I like the sleeves. I might want a similar dress myself.”

  Gerda waved toward her friend. “Olina brought a lot of new clothes with her. We’ve been studying them. This is the first one we duplicated. Hers was made from a soft, lightweight wool. But it made up really well in this cotton.”

  “Do you think you could make one to fit me?” Mrs. Braxton turned around so the girls could study her figure. “You could take measurements today.”

  Gerda looked at Olina with a question in her expression. Olina nodded slightly. It would give her something to do until she heard from Fader.

  “I think we could manage that.” Gerda turned toward the shop owner’s wife. “What fabric do you want us to use?”

  Mrs. Braxton reached up and removed a bolt of emerald green silk. “I want it out of this. If you make it for me, I’ll give each of you enough fabric to make yourself a dress. . . . Or I could pay you instead.”

  “I would love to have this sea green silk.” Olina held it against herself. “Would I look good in it?”

  Gerda nodded. “And I want this. . .what did you call it?”

  “Mauve.”

  “Yes, I’ll take the mauve. We each want ten yards.”

  Mrs. Braxton began cutting the fabric as Gerda and Olina chose thread, buttons, and lace to trim the dresses. Mrs. Braxton added an extra packet of needles to the order before she wrapped it. Then she took the young women upstairs to her living quarters. They spent an hour visiting with Mrs. Braxton while they measured her for her dress and shared a cup of tea with her. They returned downstairs to buy several pieces of calico and gingham to take home. They had finished getting all the notions they needed when Gustaf came for them.

  “Are you ready for lunch?”

  When Olina heard his voice, she looked up. For a moment she felt drawn to him. What was she thinking? She didn’t even trust him. She couldn’t risk getting hurt again. All of her pain was still too new. She had tried to deal with it the best she knew how, but she would never risk being hurt like that again.

  The three went across the street and entered the dining room of the Excelsior Hotel. It wasn’t as luxurious as the hotel where they had stayed in New York City, but it was nice. During the meal, several people Olina met at the party came by the table to visit with them. Lunch passed rather pleasantly.

  Just after they finished dessert, Gustaf reached into his pocket for his money. When he did, something crinkled. “I forgot. I picked this up at the post office when I went in to mail some letters.” He handed a letter with a Swedish postmark to Olina. “It looks as though you have a letter from home. I know you’ll be glad.”

  Olina didn’t want to be impolite, but she couldn’t help it. While Gustaf paid the waitress, she tore into the envelope. The thickness of the envelope felt as if the letter would be long and newsy. Instead, the letter she had written home dropped onto the table, unopened. Accompanying it was a short terse note.

  The person whose return address is on
this envelope is considered dead. The Sandstrom family does not want to receive any more mail from that person.

  Olina sat and stared at her father’s signature on the bottom of the note.

  ❧

  Gustaf had turned to say something to Gerda when he heard Olina gasp. As he whipped back around, he saw that every bit of color had drained from her face. Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. Gustaf wanted to shield her from other people, so he got up, gathered the dropped papers from the table, and helped her from the chair. Placing himself between her and the other people in the room, he ushered Olina out the door and through the lobby to the waiting wagon. Gerda followed right behind them.

  This time, Gustaf picked Olina up first and put her on the middle of the wagon seat. Gerda could sit on the outside to shield her from curious onlookers. As soon as he was in the wagon, he started the horses toward home. He didn’t stop until they pulled up in front of the house.

  No one had said anything on the way home. Olina sat quiet and still. When he helped her down from the wagon, she rushed into the house.

  “Go to her, Little Sister. She needs someone.” Gustaf drove the wagon to the barn, praying for Olina all the way.

  Ten

  He really means it. Olina paced her room, tears streaming down her face. How can I go on like this?

  Olina wished she could still depend on God. Knowing God was with her had given her comfort when she was younger. She needed comfort now as never before. Gerda had tried to help her, but what could anyone do? Olina dropped in a heap beside her bed, leaning her head on the Flower Garden quilt that draped to the floor. Her shoulders slumped against the side of the bed.

  Thinking hurt so much, so Olina tried to clear the horrid thoughts from her mind. However, memories flitted in and out of her head. As she rejected one, another attacked her from the other side. Fader’s harsh words the last time she had seen him rang through her consciousness undergirded by the written words on the letter she clutched in a crumpled ball, unable to let go of it. Olina had no hope.

  Child, please let me help you. Olina had heard that voice before, but today she turned a deaf ear to it. I know the plans I have for you. Olina put her hands on her ears as if to shut out an audible voice and moaned loud enough to drown it out.

  Olina stayed in her room for two days, not letting anyone come in except Gerda when she brought food and fresh water. Gerda would return later in the day to pick up the dishes, often containing most of the food, uneaten. But Olina did eat enough to keep from starving. If Gerda hugged Olina, she let her, but when Gerda tried to talk, Olina wouldn’t listen. She would busy herself rearranging her silver-handled hairbrush and mirror on the dresser or opening a drawer and moving things around, but she never touched the wad of paper she had finally dropped beside her bed.

  The third day, Olina came downstairs after the family had eaten breakfast. When she arrived in the kitchen, Mrs. Nilsson looked up expectantly.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Olina tried to keep her hostess from asking any questions. “If it’s all right, I’ll tell the whole family after dinner. That way, I only have to say it once.”

  Mrs. Nilsson nodded and turned back toward the cabinet. “We have some bacon and biscuits left from breakfast. Are you hungry? I could fix you some eggs.” She picked up the cast-iron skillet and placed it on the stove.

  “No, thank you.” Olina went to the cupboard and got out a plate and glass. “I don’t want any eggs, but the biscuits and bacon sound good.” She helped herself.

  “Would you like some butter and jelly on your biscuits?” Mrs. Nilsson placed a jar of jelly on the table beside the dish of butter.

  “That sounds good.” Olina pulled out a drawer and picked up a knife and spoon.

  “Well, sit down and enjoy your breakfast.” Mrs. Nilsson reached for the glass Olina had left on the cabinet. “I’ll go to the springhouse and get you some milk.”

  Olina turned. “Oh, I can get the milk.”

  “Let me wait on you this one time.” Mrs. Nilsson patted Olina on the shoulder. “You haven’t let me do much for you since you came here.” She turned and started out the back door, but she turned back. “Olina, I want you to know that we’ve all been praying for you. We were worried, but Gustaf convinced us to let you take your time. He told us that you would talk to us soon.” Then she walked into the bright summer sunshine.

  Olina sank into a chair by the table. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She had been able to function and even carry on a conversation without bursting into tears. If she could get through the day and then the evening, she might make it. Olina hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She had eaten two biscuits and two slices of bacon by the time Mrs. Nilsson returned.

  “Would you like to finish these other two biscuits and the rest of the bacon?” Mrs. Nilsson picked up the uncovered plate and placed it on the table in front of Olina. “Then I could go ahead and wash up all the dishes.”

  After breakfast, Olina helped Mrs. Nilsson clean the kitchen before she went out to gather the eggs. Performing regular chores brought the illusion of normalcy to Olina. Egg production had picked up. Although the chickens had a nice house with wooden nests filled with straw, a few of the hens laid their eggs in strange places. When Olina had filled the egg basket from the nests in the henhouse, she searched the weeds that grew along the fence between that building and the barn. There she found three more eggs. Olina went into the barn and looked in the scattered hay at the base of the mound that filled one end of the barn. Four more eggs were added to her basket before she returned to the kitchen.

  “Those hens.” Olina set the basket on the cabinet. “Why don’t they use the nests you’ve provided for them?”

  “I’ve wondered that myself.” Gerda came into the kitchen and put the empty laundry basket on the table.

  Olina turned to look at her friend. “At least the ones that lay their eggs somewhere else always lay them in the same places.”

  Gerda’s gaze held Olina’s for a minute or two before she turned away. “Ja, that’s a good thing. It would take a long time to gather the eggs if we had to search everywhere for them.”

  Olina was glad that she had seen understanding in Gerda’s expression before she turned away. Having a friend who loved her no matter what could get her through the rest of the day.

  ❧

  Dinner was delicious that night. Mrs. Nilsson had baked two large hens. She served them on a platter surrounded by potatoes and carrots. That afternoon, she had also baked fresh bread and an apple pie. It was a feast worthy of a special occasion. Olina tried to eat the wonderful food, but after a few bites, she pushed it around her plate instead of putting it in her mouth. When she thought about the evening ahead, her stomach started jumping and her throat tightened, making it hard to swallow her food.

  Mrs. Nilsson looked around the table. “Olina would like to talk to us in the parlor when you’re all finished eating.”

  Gustaf looked up and stared at Olina. Surely he would look away soon. However, he didn’t. And Olina couldn’t look away, either. Everything in the room faded from her consciousness. It was as if there were only two people in the room, Gustaf and herself. The moment stretched into what seemed like an eternity, and Olina felt more confused than ever. If anyone else noticed, they didn’t comment on it.

  “We’ll help you clean up, Moder.” Gustaf got up from his chair and picked up some empty dishes from the table.

  “You don’t have to do that.” Mrs. Nilsson reached for them.

  “Yes, we do.” Gustaf continued toward the sink with his hands full. “That way we’ll all get to the parlor at the same time.”

  Even Mr. Nilsson helped. Gustaf and Gerda started talking about what they had done during the day. Soon the dishes were washed and put away. Mrs. Nilsson removed her big white apron and hung it on a hook beside the back door.

  By the time Olina reached the parlor, the only place to sit was beside Gerda on the sofa. When she was
seated, everyone turned toward Olina. The time had come for her to share. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Before she opened them again, Gerda reached over, took her hand, and squeezed it.

  ❧

  Gustaf’s heart ached as he watched Olina prepare to talk to them. When he had looked at her during dinner, he could see the wall she had erected around her heart. It was painted with painful strokes trying to hide what was inside, but he could see more hurt than he ever wanted to feel himself. He wondered how she could take it. She didn’t look that strong, but she must be.

  When Gustaf had gone into the kitchen for dinner, she had been standing beside her chair. He thought she looked fragile when he had met her on the dock, but that woman would look strong beside the woman standing by the table. She had to have inner strength to stand there, as if nothing were wrong. But something was wrong, terribly wrong. Gud, what can I do to help her. Please tell me.

  He wished he could sit beside her, where Gerda was. He wanted to be the one to comfort her and take away her pain. This feeling was new and stronger than anything he had ever felt for a woman. Was this love? If it was, what could he do about it if she wouldn’t let him come near her?

  Just love her, My son. She needs so much love.

  When Olina opened her eyes, Gustaf tried to communicate that love to her through his expression. He knew he would have to go slowly and let God heal Olina’s hurts before he could ever say anything to her about his feelings. That thought caused his heart to beat a little faster. Gustaf felt hope for a day when Olina might be his wife.

  ❧

  Olina glanced at Gustaf. He was looking right at her. His expression was trying to tell her something, but she felt uncomfortable, so she quickly looked away. What was he trying to communicate to her?

  Olina took a deep breath again. Still holding Gerda’s hand, she looked at Mr. Nilsson and then Mrs. Nilsson before fixing her gaze on the pattern in the carpet. As she began to talk, she studied the design.

  “I’m sorry I have not been sociable these last two days.”