Wisely, Haakan just held her, rocking gently from one foot to the other, murmuring soothing nothings and rubbing her back.
When she sagged against him, he guided her into the bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed. He unlaced her boots and pulled them off, then covered her when she fell on her side.
‘‘You will feel better when you wake up.’’
‘‘No, I . . .’’
He pushed her back down. ‘‘Sleep, my Inge. Sleep.’’
Some time later she thought she heard Kaaren’s voice asking about her, but sleep claimed her again before she could rouse enough to respond.
Lord, what have I done? The thought jerked her upright. The setting sun reddened the sky and set the room to glowing. Where had the afternoon gone? Had she slept it away? She flopped back on the pillows. How will I ever face people again?
With the back of her hand over her forehead, she stared at the sunset-pinked ceiling.
‘‘You think Mor is going to have to chop wood?’’ Andrew’s voice broke through her stupor.
‘‘Shush. Don’t you go making things worse.’’ Astrid sounded remarkably like her mother.
Andrew’s chuckle echoed as he headed out the door to help with the milking.
If only she could pull the covers over her head and will this day back to the morning.
Lord God, please forgive me for yelling at Hildegunn yesterday. But I cannot say I’m sorry. For I’m not. I am still so mad at her that my hands shake. Yet I know that your Word says to forgive as we have been forgiven. But why doesn’t she have to apologize? She is so . . . so like the Pharisees, and even you called them names. Ingeborg sighed and shook her head. Why did I have to go and yell at her like that?
The cat arched against her skirt as she sat in the rocker by the fire. Outside, icicles dripped merrily and the warm chinook wind called her to come out and play. Or at least to stand on the porch and feel the warmth after such a long, cold, and dark winter.
She’d heard the change in the wind sometime during the night when she was arguing with a silent God instead of sleeping.
By the next morning, after even less sleep, guilt weighed around her neck like one of the millstones the Bible referred to.
‘‘Lord, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to talk with Pastor. I don’t want to go anywhere.’’ Speaking aloud in the quietness, she clenched the sides of her skirt. ‘‘But I don’t want to carry this burden around any longer either. Is there no other way?’’
She took down the bowl with the rising bread dough and, dumping it out on the floured board, pushed her hand down into its yeasty softness. Within three strokes, she changed from kneading to pummeling, pounding the air into it, flipping and turning the dough as if it were alive and had desecrated the memory of her dear dead friend.
Tears dripped as she locked her elbows and leaned on the table. ‘‘Lord God, I cannot stand this. I give up.’’
She formed the bread dough into a round ball again and set it back to rise once more.
‘‘Such irony, beat up the dough to get the lightest bread—when I would rather be beating up that woman. No wonder Andrew uses his fists at times. It must feel immensely satisfying, like the bread dough. How can I ask him to not do so when I almost did?’’
Was that a chuckle she heard or the dropping of ashes in the firebox?
After serving leftover beef barley soup for dinner along with fresh bread still warm from the oven, she took a loaf and a wedge of cheese, loaded a basket, and headed for the barn to harness the horse. The snow was too wet for skiing.
Half an hour later she stopped the horse and sleigh in front of the Valderses’ home and tied the horse to the hitching post. Surely she saw the curtain twitch shut in a front window, but no one came to the door. She knocked and waited, then knocked again. Hildegunn Valders opened the door and stood there, arms locked across her chest.
‘‘I have come to beg . . .’’ Ingeborg swallowed and began again. ‘‘I brought you a peace offering and came to beg your forgiveness for the things I said the other day at quilting. I am truly sorry.’’ Her words finally finished in a rush. Will she not even invite me in? Ingeborg held out her basket. ‘‘I just baked today. I thought—’’
‘‘I forgive you only because our Lord says I must, but I shan’t forget what you said.’’ Hildegunn closed the door without another word. The click of the catch cracked like a rifleshot in the stillness.
Ingeborg took a step back, the urge to bang on the door swelling within her like the rage of the days before. Instead, she closed her eyes. Lord, I have done what you commanded. Now what? Turning, she walked down the unshoveled steps and out to the waiting horse. After settling herself in the sleigh, she backed the horse and, turning, headed home. She thought of going on out to the Solberg place, since she was already out, or stopping by the store to see Penny, but instead she headed on home.
‘‘Back so soon?’’ Haakan met her at the barn door.
‘‘She said she’d forgive me but would never forget and slammed the door in my face.’’
Haakan’s jaw tightened. ‘‘That’s not forgiveness.’’
‘‘Not the way I understand, but I learned something. I did what I had to do, and now I leave the rest in God’s hands. Come on up to the house for coffee. I’ll heat up that gingerbread and whip some cream.’’
‘‘Done.’’ He took the bridle off the horse and led him into the barn.
‘‘And, Haakan, don’t you go getting your dander up over this. One of us has to sleep nights.’’
She heard his chuckle as she turned toward the house, her basket on her arm. Amazing how much brighter the sun shone now than on her way into town.
The funeral service for Metiz and two others occurred as soon as the ground thawed enough to dig the graves, as usual. Ingeborg looked around at the other mourners, and the only one missing besides Bridget was Hildegunn Valders. Even her two closest friends, Mrs. Magron and Mrs. Odell, were present. Pastor Solberg caught her gaze with a slight nod. He’d already visited one day and commended her for her efforts.
‘‘I should never have acted like that,’’ she’d said to him.
‘‘No, you shouldn’t have, but you did right in going to her. Now it is up to you and the rest of us to pray for her that she can truly learn what forgiveness means, the way God forgives, He who remembers our sins no more.’’
Ingeborg brought her attention back to the three graves dug in the prairie sod.
‘‘Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, we commend the souls of these brothers and sister to the care of our almighty God. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.’’
Ingeborg mopped her tears and glanced over to the graves of Agnes and Joseph Baard, of Swen, and two other very small graves. Her chest tightened and yet felt empty as more tears followed the earlier ones.
Penny placed an arm around her shoulders. ‘‘Sometimes it seems the Lord does more taking than giving, but we know that is not really true. Bridget asked if you would come by the boardinghouse. She had planned on coming, but a group of people got off the train and needed dinner.’’
‘‘Of course. Is she all right?’’
‘‘No different than usual. She doesn’t say much, but she has really missed Metiz too. Says she and Henry are now the oldest living in Blessing, which is true, but it would be hard to guess by looking at her.’’
Ingeborg glanced over to the Valderses’ house. Actually Hilde-gunn, with her sober mien, looked older than Bridget with her welcoming smile. Even though Bridget probably had twenty years on her.
Ingeborg linked arms with Penny. ‘‘Let’s get the coffee poured and everyone served at the church. Then I’ll go see Bridget, and after that you show me the new bolts of cloth you have. I feel the need to make a new dress of my own. And Astrid is growing so fast I’ve let down her hems as far as they can go. I better get some sewing done before the garden is ready to plant.’’
‘‘I already start
ed some tomatoes. Do you think it is too early?’’
‘‘No, I guess it is about time already.’’
The two climbed the three steps to the church, and others followed.
‘‘When do you think Anji and her husband will be back?’’ Ingeborg asked Knute as she served his coffee.
‘‘Soon, I hope, although from her letter, I think she is having a good time in Norway. She said she is missing home and the plains here, where you can see forever. Says the mountains are beautiful but give her a bowl of sky any day.’’
‘‘Good. And her new daughters?’’
‘‘She said they call her Mor and are ready to come to America.’’
Ingeborg caught his glance toward Dorothy, who stood with her baby on her shoulder, patting his back while she visited with Martha Mary. Young Swen had made his arrival between snowstorms and with little fanfare.
Hmm, thought Ingeborg, so that is the way the wind blows. Perhaps Penny was right and we might be needing another wedding ring quilt by summer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
May 1896
‘‘Will Thorliff be coming home this summer?’’ Penny asked.
Ingeborg shrugged. ‘‘I doubt it. He hasn’t said anything about it.’’ She nodded toward the coffeepot on the back of the stove.
‘‘No, thanks.’’ Penny put her hand over her cup. ‘‘I’m coffeed out. But you have no idea how I appreciate your taking me under your wing like this. A whole afternoon of not waiting on anyone in the store, not answering to little voices calling Ma-a-a, and not even having to make supper.’’ She tipped her head back against the chair. ‘‘Between you and Astrid . . .’’ Penny’s voice faded.
‘‘I’m glad we could do this for you. After all, it was Astrid’s idea.’’
‘‘What a special daughter you have raised. Would that mine would grow up to be just like her.’’
‘‘The years go so fast.’’ Ingeborg picked up her knitting from the basket at her feet. ‘‘Astrid is asking if we can go to Northfield to see Thorliff.’’
‘‘Why don’t you go?’’
‘‘The expense and the time needed. Who would cook for the men? And the weeds would take over my garden. Besides, it wouldn’t seem fair to go off and leave Haakan and Andrew like that.’’
‘‘Haakan went to the Grange meeting in Grand Forks.’’
‘‘Only over one night though. We’d need to be gone a week or so.’’ Ingeborg kept her fears to herself. They’d have to change trains in Grand Forks and again in St. Paul. Hjelmer said the Twin Cities had doubled or tripled in size since the time she came through there on her way west to Dakota Territory. And then she’d had Roald to keep her safe.
After Penny left, Ingeborg took out Thorliff’s last letter.
May 15, 1896
Dear Mor,
How swiftly this year has flown. It is hard to believe I am truly finishing my third year of college. They have asked me to be editor of the college paper next year, but I believe I shall decline the honor. I get enough newspaper work every day, and I want to use every spare minute I have on rewriting this book I am working on. I thought to have it finished by now, but playing baseball took up a lot of my time. I play the game, then replay it when I write it up for the paper. I do truly enjoy the sport. Who ever would have thought that those games of stickball in the pasture would have taught me how to hit like I do. There is a certain satisfaction in hearing the solid connection of bat and ball and seeing that ball lift in an arc and fly away. Hearing the spectators cheer does one’s heart good also.
Elizabeth is not looking forward to another summer in Chicago. But once this one is done, she will officially be a licensed medical doctor and can practice anywhere she wants. Her mother is still hoping she will return to Northfield and join Dr. Gaskin in his practice. I am hoping for that too.
Thank you for your letters. I beg your forgiveness for not responding more faithfully.
This promises to be a busy summer with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers going to Chicago to see Elizabeth and then going on to New York to a newspaper convention. They will be gone for three weeks the latter part of June and into July, and the thought of being in charge for that long a time is both exciting and terrifying. Although I will have help from my friend Benjamin, and Mr. Ingermanson has said he will help if I need him. Mr. Rogers says he has complete confidence in me, but I’m glad I have my confidence in our heavenly Father instead. I covet your prayers that I will have all the wisdom I need.
Greet everyone in Blessing for me. I need to answer a letter from Pastor Solberg too. Give Astrid an extra tug on her braids to remind her that her elder brother has not forgotten her. There is a package coming for her one of these days. I’m glad you all enjoy our newspaper, even though the news is old by the time you get it.
I remain your loving son,
Thorliff
Ingeborg took out her paper and pencil.
May 30, 1896
Dear Thorliff,
I know you will do well with the paper, and that answers my question as to whether you will be coming home this summer. It also answers Astrid’s plea that we come visit you. Late June is the only time I could think of being away, and from the sounds of things, you would have no time for company then. Perhaps you could come home for Christmas this year.
She laid her pencil aside and went to the window to see what the dog was barking at. Astrid ran up the lane, braids bouncing.
Ingeborg thought of how Astrid would love to see her big brother and how surprised he would be at how grown up she’d become. She put away her writing things, not wanting to have to tell Astrid she had for sure decided not to go. If only they could travel in the wintertime, when the farm chores were so much less demanding. But then school kept them home. Not that she wanted to be like Hjelmer, who seemed to be gone most of the time.
She thought back to what Penny had said about that. ‘‘Why can’t he be content with our store and selling machinery and even blacksmithing again?’’ She didn’t like her husband being involved in politics.
Ingeborg sighed. So many questions for which she had no answers.
‘‘Mor, guess what?’’ Astrid burst through the door with a slam.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Onkel Olaf is thinking of moving.’’
‘‘No!’’
‘‘That’s what Mrs. Valders said to Mrs. Magron.’’
‘‘Were you eavesdropping?’’
‘‘No, well, yes. Well, sort of. But it isn’t eavesdropping is it when you would have to clap your hands over your ears to not hear. And besides, they were in the store, and I was in Tante Penny’s kitchen, so—’’
‘‘All right, you weren’t eavesdropping, and’’—Ingeborg shook the grate in the stove—‘‘I expect you won’t tell anyone else what you heard.’’
‘‘No, but Mor, did you know about it?’’
Ingeborg shook her head. ‘‘But I wouldn’t take that as gospel truth. You know how rumors can spread.’’
‘‘All right. But if Ellie has to move away, Andrew won’t be fit to live with.’’
‘‘Then you better make sure you are not the one to worry him.’’
‘‘I won’t. Did you pick the eggs?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘I will. Do you have any scraps for the chickens?’’
‘‘In the bucket on the porch.’’ Surely Penny would have said something if this were indeed true. Oh Lord, poor Andrew. He and Ellie Wold have been like two peas in a pod for . . . well, forever, it seems. What will he do if she leaves?
The summer passed without further notice of anyone moving, other than to find the nearest shade. Crops were good, and for a change, the weather cooperated with just enough sun and rain. Other than Mrs. Valders still refusing to speak to Ingeborg, all was well.
After church one Sunday, Kaaren shook her head. ‘‘Doesn’t she realize she is just making a fool of herself?’’
Hildegunn Valders had just then turned a
way when Ingeborg greeted her. For a long time Ingeborg had just ignored the silences, but now she made it a point to greet Hildegunn, and not just with a smile and a nod.
Ingeborg looked across the gathering to where people were visiting and children were running and playing. ‘‘Isn’t there an old saw about killing someone with kindness?’’ Ingeborg’s right eyebrow lifted slightly.
‘‘I take it that will be your campaign?’’
‘‘That and a commitment to pray for her every day.’’
‘‘Where did this all come about?’’ The two made their way back to their wagons.
‘‘I guess it was God’s idea, and He shared it with me.’’
August 10, 1896
Dear Thorliff,
Harvest is about to begin. The wheat is heavy and looks to be a wonderful harvest, as long as nothing happens before we get it in.
Mrs. Valders has yet to speak to me since my terrible outburst of last winter. Everyone pretty much ignores the way she acts, and I continue to pray for her. One has only to look at her face to know that she is a very unhappy woman.
Astrid had hoped something miraculous would allow us to come to Northfield, but then, I know she has written you herself. At the rate she is growing, I shall soon be the shortest one in our family. I am glad your weeks of running the paper went so well. You proved to yourself how very capable you are, something I was already convinced was true.
George McBride has agreed to take charge of the milking so that Andrew may at last go along with the threshing crew. He is so excited, as you can well guess.
We had a letter from Manda. She is in the family way again and will not be coming with the horses this year, nor will Baptiste. I shall miss seeing them.
That is all the news for now. Know always that I love you.
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