‘‘If we had a ramp, we could drag them up into the pile,’’ Thor-liff suggested later in the afternoon.
‘‘Good idea.’’ Haakan unwrapped the chains and drove the horses back to the side corral to remove their harnesses. ‘‘I’ve got some planks that didn’t float off because they were in the barn. Some wet, but that don’t matter. Get the hammers out of the toolbox on the steam engine.’’
Thorliff went to do as told, realizing yet again how disturbed his father was. Any other time, Haakan would have thought of the ramp. And already had it built.
‘‘Lord, please take care of my pa. He isn’t himself, and this scares me worse than the flood.’’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
That evening Thorliff retrieved his satchel, dug out paper and pencil, and sat at the table to compose a letter to Elizabeth. He hoped she would be agreeable to coming.
April 26, 1897
Dear Elizabeth,
The trains are running again, and the people here are trying to clean up the horrendous mess and get on with their lives, but we need a doctor. Dr. Morganstein said she was training doctors to go where there are none, and we are in desperate need right now. People are near death. Please come. You can send a telegraph as to when you will arrive. Send to Thorliff Bjorklund in Blessing, North Dakota. We have no medical supplies here, and my mor is doing her best.
Yours,
Thorliff
Between flood cleanup and increasing numbers of very ill people, Thorliff sometimes wished he had stayed in Northfield. But he knew he was where he had to be. As the land dried, getting from one house to another became easier. The men worked on the machinery, scraping, cleaning, and oiling. The women and children scrubbed houses inside and out. Hjelmer brought in a cattle car of livestock donated by Minnesota farmers, along with hay and grain to feed them. And Penny restocked the store as soon as it was clean enough to hold the merchandise.
Every day Thorliff hoped to hear from Elizabeth. How long could a letter take? But when he checked the calendar, only five days had passed since he’d sent his letter, days that felt like weeks or even months. While waiting to hear from Elizabeth, he received a letter from Reverend Mohn telling him of the board’s decision to allow him to return to take his examinations as soon as he was able.
When he brought the letter home to read to his family, he found his mother lying in bed.
‘‘I’ll be all right if I can just sleep awhile.’’ But her greenish white face told him otherwise. He saddled one of the horses and headed for Penny’s store to send a telegram.
‘‘I was just coming to you with this.’’ Uncle Olaf waved a paper when he saw Thorliff dismount in front of the store.
‘‘Mange takk.’’ Thorliff read the brief telegraph to himself, then aloud. ‘‘Arriving on the morning train Stop Will need wagon Stop Love Elizabeth Stop.’’ He thumped the man on the shoulder. ‘‘You brought good tidings. We are getting a doctor here to help, and she brings medicines.’’
‘‘Good thing, if she gets here in time. My Goodie took sick this morning. Don’t look too good for the baby. He was born just before the flood, you know.’’ Olaf shook his head. ‘‘Don’t think I can take too much more of this. If the flood wasn’t bad enough, now everybody taking so sick.’’ He turned and headed back toward his house, his back more bent than Haakan’s.
‘‘When did your mother get sick?’’ Elizabeth stood at Ingeborg’s bedside studying her patient.
‘‘She kept on going until yesterday. She has used up all her energy taking care of the others.’’ Thorliff knelt by his mother’s bed. ‘‘Mor, Elizabeth is here. She will take care of the others.’’ And you. Father God, please don’t take my mother. ‘‘You don’t need to worry about them now. Just rest.’’
Ingeborg nodded but barely, as if that took too much effort. Her lips twitched in what might have been a smile.
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. ‘‘I am glad to meet you, though these surely aren’t the circumstances either one of us would have chosen.’’
‘‘A . . . Astrid?’’
Elizabeth glanced up at Thorliff, who now stood slightly behind her with his hand on her shoulder.
‘‘She’s a bit better, Mor.’’
‘‘Good.’’ Her fingers clenched Elizabeth’s and relaxed.
‘‘Mor?’’ Thorliff fell to his knees.
‘‘She is only sleeping. Rest and plenty of fluids are what she needs.’’
She led the way back to the kitchen. ‘‘You have been boiling all the water you use in the house?’’
‘‘All that we drink, ja.’’
‘‘No, you must boil all the water. For dishes, for washing your hands, for cooking.’’ She glanced around the kitchen. ‘‘This room was under water?’’
‘‘Ja, all but the upstairs.’’
‘‘How awful. What about your well?’’
‘‘It is sealed since we got the windmill, so no animals or trash can get down in it.’’
‘‘Good. How deep is it?’’
‘‘Ten, fifteen feet, if that much.’’
‘‘Still, you better boil all the water. Use carbolic acid to clean out the reservoir on the stove, and you need to boil all the dishes and silverware.’’
Thorliff gave her a questioning look.
‘‘I know your mother keeps a clean house, but germs live on. And germs make us sick. Something so small we can only see it with a microscope can and does kill us.’’
‘‘I will begin to boil, then.’’
‘‘You have glass jars?’’
‘‘Ja.’’
‘‘Boil them first and pour the clean water into them.’’
‘‘Like canning?’’
‘‘Yes. What other families are the sickest?’’
‘‘I’m not sure. I’ve been taking care of them here for the last couple of days. Far and Andrew are helping some of the others.’’
Elizabeth thought for a bit. ‘‘This is what we will do. You must get your mother and Astrid to drink every fifteen minutes, even if you are spooning water into them. The more frequently the better. Do you have any beef to boil?’’
He shook his head.
‘‘Chicken?’’
‘‘No. The flood took everything. My uncle Hjelmer went to Minneapolis to buy a boxcar of supplies for all of us. He should be back yet today.’’
‘‘I could have brought ham or . . .’’ Elizabeth shook her head. ‘‘No sense looking back. I will take care of things here, and you go tell the others to boil everything. Just like I told you.’’
‘‘I will go to Tante Kaaren’s first and send Trygve to the others. I told Far I would take care of Mor and Astrid.’’
‘‘All right. Will they believe Trygve?’’
‘‘Yes. He will say you said to do so. Most of them know of you because of my letters home.’’
‘‘Good. Please fill that kettle with water so I can begin the boiling. Jars, where would I find them?’’
‘‘In the basement, where we still have standing water. I’ll get them.’’ After getting the jars for her, Thorliff flew over the small pasture where grass was already poking green spears through the layer of mud.
Trygve listened carefully, then took off for the Baards’, running as if wolves were after him.
‘‘I can send Ilse over to help you since we sent all of the students home early.’’ Kaaren, who so recently had been lying sick in bed herself, lifted the lids and put more wood in the fire. ‘‘Sophie is well enough to help here.’’
‘‘How’s Gracie?’’
‘‘On the mend. George is still bad.’’
‘‘Ilse will leave him?’’
‘‘I can make him drink while she is gone.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘While I’m thanking God no one died here, so many others have. And from what I hear, Blessing isn’t as hard hit as some of the other communities.’’
‘‘I have to get back. Make sure you boil everythi
ng.’’
‘‘I will, and thank your Elizabeth for coming. I so look forward to meeting her.’’
Not that she’s my Elizabeth, but . . . He waved from the door. My Elizabeth, how I wish she would be my Elizabeth.
Haakan brought home two chickens from the relief train and within an hour had them boiling, overriding the rank flood stench that permeated the house.
‘‘Thank you for coming,’’ he said to Elizabeth after Thorliff introduced them. ‘‘The train brought coal too so that people can cook again. We were so fortunate that all of our wood didn’t float away. So many things we take for granted, like wood to burn, dry wood that is, and chicken for supper.’’
‘‘So true. I have a suggestion, Mr. Bjorklund.’’
He nodded.
‘‘What if we bring Astrid downstairs to share the bed with Mrs. Bjorklund? That will make caring for them both easier.’’
‘‘Of course, Doctor. Anything else?’’
‘‘We must get the word out to all of Blessing that boiling all utensils and dishes is as important as boiling drinking and cooking water. That everyone drink only boiled water, that those who are ill need to drink boiled water and broth, as much as can be poured into them. Tea made of peppermint will help calm the digestive tract. I brought a big bag of leaves. And sunshine and fresh air will help restore them also.’’
‘‘I will take care of that. Would you be willing to write up instructions? Penny could post them at the store, and I know Pastor Solberg would read them on Sunday.’’
‘‘I could make copies,’’ Andrew offered.
‘‘I will write out the instructions.’’
‘‘Now, what can I do for Ingeborg?’’
‘‘Make her drink more.’’
The next two days passed with Elizabeth spending part of her time going from farm to farm and making recommendations in the care of the sick.
‘‘I’m hungry,’’ Astrid said the following morning, struggling to sit up. Elizabeth rushed to help her, holding her while Thorliff plumped a pillow behind her.
‘‘That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.’’ Thorliff stroked his little sister’s hair.
‘‘I’ll get you some broth.’’
‘‘Can I have a piece of bread?’’
‘‘Broth first and then bread.’’ Elizabeth stood and went to the kitchen.
‘‘Who is that?’’ Astrid whispered.
‘‘Dr. Elizabeth Rogers.’’
‘‘Your Elizabeth?’’
Thorliff nodded and shrugged at the same time. ‘‘My friend, Miss—er—Dr. Rogers, yes.’’
Elizabeth returned with two cups of broth and two spoons. ‘‘Here, you help Astrid with that, and I’ll give some more to your mother.’’
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Elizabeth touched Ingeborg’s arm. ‘‘Mrs. Bjorklund, listen to me. If you want to get better, you have to swallow this.’’ Elizabeth held the spoon to Ingeborg’s mouth. She waited and finally Ingeborg’s mouth opened, and she swallowed.
Father, please, she is so weak. Thorliff didn’t dare look at either his mother or Astrid for the certainty they would see the fear in his eyes.
Astrid looked over at her mother in the bed beside her. ‘‘Is Mor . . .’’
‘‘She is getting better just like you.’’
‘‘Good.’’ Astrid curled over on her side and laid her cheek on her hands. ‘‘God, please make my mor better.’’ Her eyes drifted closed almost before all the words were out of her mouth.
‘‘Please, God, let it be so.’’ Thorliff’s words fell soft on the spring breeze that drifted through the open window.
That night when Elizabeth and Thorliff changed shifts at the bedside, he asked, ‘‘Is Mor any better?’’
‘‘I don’t think so, but she is no worse either. That is a good thing.’’
Thorliff sighed. ‘‘She is a strong woman, my mor, and a fighter.’’ Staring down at the pale face on the pillows, he fought the tears that threatened. Please, God, you said that by the stripes of your Son, we are healed. Let it be so, here and now. Let your Word be so.
‘‘Call me if you need me.’’ Elizabeth rose and offered him her chair.
‘‘I will.’’ Thorliff took the hand she held out and clasped it to his cheek. ‘‘Thank you.’’
She’d not been gone long when Haakan drifted in. ‘‘Any change?’’
‘‘She’s holding her own.’’
‘‘I could take this shift. I’m awake anyway.’’
‘‘You sit here, and I’ll go get more broth.’’
Haakan sat and took his wife’s hand in his. The stoop of his shoulders and the weariness in his eyes smote Thorliff right in the heart. His pa looked like he’d aged ten years in the last week. He watched as Haakan’s lips began to move in what Thorliff realized was nearly continuous prayer.
Surely God was listening. Surely.
He returned with cup and spoon and offered them to his father, then took his place on the other side. They had moved Astrid back to her own bed that evening.
‘‘Far, you look done in. Go on to bed.’’
‘‘Can’t sleep anyhow. Close my eyes, and I see those cows drowning in the barn when I could have saved them. I thought to move them west too and didn’t do it. God forgive me. He tried to help me, and I ignored him.’’
Thorliff closed his eyes, prayers fluttering upward as though borne on eagles’ wings. ‘‘He says He forgives, no matter what. That’s what you’ve always told me, you and Mor and Pastor Solberg. The Scriptures never lie.’’
‘‘I know that. My head knows that. I’ve been reading and rereading all the passages I know. But somehow I just can’t let this go. I thank Him for saving us, but my prayers don’t even make it to the ceiling.’’
‘‘You got to have faith, Far, you’ve got to.’’
‘‘And now Ingeborg, if . . .’’ He spooned more broth into her mouth.
Thorliff closed his eyes. What do I say? What do I do?
Her only movement was the faint motion of her throat as the broth trickled down.
Some time later Thorliff caught himself nodding off and jerked upright. Haakan lay back in the chair on the other side of the bed, gentle snores puffing his lips. Other than that, the silence in the room made Thorliff close his eyes again. Please, God. He forced himself to look at his mother, fear gnawing at his mind like a snarl of rats. Was she gone? He studied the bedclothes, relief pouring through him. While the rise of her chest was so faint as to scarcely move the covers, they did move. She was breathing.
He picked up the spoon and the now-turned-cold cup of broth and, ordering his hand to hold steady, held the full spoon to his mother’s lips. ‘‘Please, Mor, drink this. You have to drink!’’ He put all the force of his love into the words, at the same time his mind screaming to his Lord for help. While she swallowed, albeit faintly, part of the liquid dribbled down her chin. Thorliff held another spoonful, tipping it slowly, but the same thing happened again. He mopped her chin with the bed sheet. Is this doing any good, Father? Where are you?
Haakan jerked awake with a snort. ‘‘Is . . . is she. . . ?’’
‘‘About the same.’’
‘‘Here, let me try. You go on to bed.’’
Thorliff handed over the cup and spoon, then took the cup back. ‘‘I’ll go heat this up again. Talk to her, Far. We’ve got to keep her here.’’
Haakan gave his son a questioning glance, then looked back to his wife. ‘‘Ingeborg Bjorklund, you cannot die. You hear me? You got to live.’’ He swallowed and knelt by the bed, clasping her flaccid hand. ‘‘Please, God, don’t take her. We—I need her here, for a long time yet.’’ He kissed her hand and smoothed her hair back. ‘‘Hear me, Inge? You got to want to live.’’
Thorliff ignored the tears blurring his vision and turned away to fetch warm broth. He returned in a couple of minutes to see Haakan sitting back in his chair, still clutching his wife’s hand.
; ‘‘Here, Far. Try some more.’’ He handed Haakan the cup again. ‘‘Unless you want me to do it.’’ Thorliff felt his own tears burning again when he saw the tear tracks on his father’s face.
‘‘Haakan?’’ The name came faintly.
‘‘Yes. Inge, my dear Inge.’’ The spoon and cup clattered to the floor at the same time as Haakan’s knees hit the braided rug.
‘‘Ja, I . . . I . . .’’ The pause caught at Thorliff, but she continued. ‘‘I am still here.’’
‘‘Ja, you are. Please stay. Don’t leave me.’’
‘‘I . . . I . . .’’ A slight smile tugged at her chapped lips. ‘‘I will.’’
‘‘Drink more.’’ Tears rained down Haakan’s cheeks as he spooned more broth, the shaking of his hand causing some to dribble down her face. ‘‘Sorry.’’
‘‘It’s . . . all . . . right.’’
His mother spoke. For the first time in three days, his mother spoke. Was that a bit of color in her cheeks?
Thorliff took a handkerchief from his back pocket and, after wiping his eyes, blew his nose. ‘‘Praise God.’’
‘‘Ja, praise God.’’
The next Sunday as many of the people of Blessing as were able gathered for the regular service at the church.
‘‘Welcome. We are gathered in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, amen.’’ Pastor Solberg glanced around the congregation, his smile reaching every soul there gathered. ‘‘We will sing ‘O God, Our Help in Ages Past,’ for we have indeed been delivered from a stormy blast.’’
Not all of us, Ingeborg thought as she glanced around. Many families were missing a member, thanks to the cholera scourge. And I . . . I was almost one of them. She raised her head to catch Haakan watching her. ‘‘I’m fine.’’ She whispered the words when she’d rather have shouted them to the heavens. Now she truly understood what weak meant. Weak before had meant just birthing a baby, but there was a rope of joy in giving birth that there hadn’t been when she was too weak to even swallow. Never would she have thought she might have to force herself to swallow broth.
More Than a Dream Page 32