“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
In the wagon going home, Ivar asked, “We going to dig more today?”
“I could help too,” Nilda offered.
Rune nodded, smiling. “Ja, we are, we sure are.”
Signe and Nilda grinned at each other. Kirstin squirmed in Signe’s arms, reaching for Leif and chattering at him.
Gerd had dinner all ready to set on the table when they got home. “I already fed Einar. I think he feels some better today.” She took Kirstin, who was reaching for her. “Did that man pour water on your head, little one? I hope you gave him your most winning smile.” She looked at Signe, who was shaking her head. “She didn’t like it?”
“Ah, not exactly, and she let everyone know her feelings.” Signe glanced at Nilda, who rolled her eyes.
“That she did. Very clearly.” Nilda reached for an apron and tied it around her waist.
Signe suggested, “You might need to change her again, so while you do that, I will put dinner on the table. You boys go change into your work clothes so we can eat and get to digging.”
When they were gathered at the table, Rune bowed his head and waited for the others. “Thank you, Lord, for this baby you have given us. Thank you that we could have her baptized today in a church that is beginning to feel like home. Thank you for bringing us to this country and this place, for Gerd and Einar, and that Nilda and Ivar arrived here safely. Thank you for the house we are building, for work we can do to build a home here. Bless this food and bless this day. Amen.”
Signe sniffed and noticed that Gerd did too. Thank you, Lord, not only for bringing Gerd back but for making her stronger and now such a part of our family. She is more like a grandma to the boys. She paused in her thoughts, heaved a sigh, and added, And thank you for Einar too.
Sometime later, when Kirstin and Gerd were napping, Signe saw that Einar’s eyes were open. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“That chair.” He pointed to the chair Gerd had sat in so often when Signe was working to get her stronger.
“Of course.” When she added, “Be glad to,” she surprised even herself. She set the chair beside the bed. “I could help you.”
His glare told her what he thought of that idea.
“Would you like some coffee and cake when you are seated?” She knew his growl meant yes, so she chose to leave the room rather than argue. She returned with a tray for the coffee and spice cake Gerd had baked in honor of the baptismal day. A fork lay beside the cake.
Einar’s hand shook so severely that he almost dropped it until he grasped it with both hands. His right hand seemed so much weaker than the left. Wishing she had watched him move to the chair, she started to ask about the weakness, but his glare sent her out of the room instead.
What a mean, nasty person. Served him right.
And is he not one of My children?
Signe almost looked to see if someone else was in the kitchen, the voice had seemed so clear. Her sigh seemed to come from her ankles. I guess. I don’t think I can forgive him. She thought a moment. But do I want to? She had to sit down. Be honest, her reasonable side whispered.
Lord, how do I forgive him when he keeps hurting those I love, let alone me? And now this, all because he is so sure he knows everything better than anyone else. And we all must pay for his stubbornness.
Silence can be very uncomfortable.
An even deeper sigh inched its way up, followed by a tear. Does it make any sense to say I am trying? Right now she wished Reverend Skarstead were here to answer her questions. Telling Einar that she forgave him would make him . . . She stopped to think. He would yell at her and wake Gerd and Kirstin. Or he would just glare at her, which always made her feel nailed to the wall. Or . . . ? A mental image of him lunging at her made her shiver.
Was she afraid of Einar Strand? Another question that stopped her mid-thought.
Ja. Ja, she was. If his temper got out of control . . . Reminders of the winter fiasco made her shudder again. And always, his actions either wounded or made life harder for the others. Especially Gerd. Even though she would get furious with him, he was her husband, and even if she didn’t love him now, she had at one time. Then again, had she, or was this a marriage of convenience that was still that?
Signe rubbed her forehead. Was she getting a headache from all this thinking? All over forgiveness. Something she should be able to just do.
A crash from the bedroom jerked her to her feet. An expletive made her stop at the door. Einar had not fallen. The tray lay on the floor, leftover coffee spreading over the painted floorboards. Kirstin set up a howl, jerked awake by the noise.
“What happened? Is Kirstin all right?” Gerd was heading for the baby before she was fully awake, and she had to pause to get her balance.
Signe caught her before she hit the floor. Once Gerd was steady, Signe patted her arm, and Gerd headed for Kirstin.
Einar yelled at Signe and pointed at the tray.
Instead of forgiving, Signe exploded. Without thinking, praying, or breathing, Signe stomped to a stop just out of Einar’s reach. “If you would think about someone other than yourself for a change, then life—”
She stopped. She did not pick up his tray. She did not offer to help him.
She left the room, left his roaring, and slammed the door shut behind her. Gritting her teeth, she nodded at Gerd, who already had Kirstin comforted, and shoved open the screen door, ignoring the slam of it behind her. At the garden she picked up a hoe and attacked the weeds between the hills of already sprouting potatoes. She chopped at the ground until forced to catch her breath.
Somehow the thought of using the hoe on Einar made her sad as the anger had seeped out of her sometime in the hoeing. Lord, you asked me to forgive that man, and here I wanted to wound him, to pay him back. She wiped away the tears she’d not even been aware of. How could such a wonderful, special day sink to this so easily?
Chapter
23
But I could spend the day digging out the cellar or helping the boys cut firewood,” Nilda protested.
“I know,” Signe replied, “but this is the last meeting of the year, and I would love to go. And even more so, I want you to come with me.”
Nilda glanced at Gerd, who mouthed Go. “Who will help with Einar?”
Gerd declared firmly, “I will take care of Einar. After all, he is the man I married. He is my responsibility, not yours.”
“I know! You come too, we take Kirstin, and we let Einar fend for himself until the others come up for dinner, which we will have waiting for them.” Nilda grinned from one ear to the other.
Gerd shook her head. “I am afraid that would only cause more problems. I will stay here, play with our baby, and feed all the men. You two go and have a good time. The work always waits for us.” She patted Nilda’s arm. “Please. That would make me very happy. Perhaps I will be able to go along another day. Ladies Aid will always be there.”
Nilda tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “All right. But if himself in there finds out, he’ll threaten to send me back to Norway. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.”
Later, when the two women were seated on the wagon box and ready to trot down the lane, Signe paused to ask, “If he really could send you back, what would you do?” She flipped the reins over Rosie’s back and looked at Nilda.
“I would go work for someone else. I am not returning to Norway, and you can be sure he would not order Ivar to leave. Onkel Einar might think he can order me around, but once I stepped off that land, he would no longer be my master.”
Signe nodded. “Glad to hear that.” She inhaled a deep breath scented by growing fields and flowers blooming along the roadside, a whiff of horse, and a tiny trace of a skunk that had visited during the night. “I feel light as a butterfly. Just us together, without any of the others. Do you know how many years it has been since we had time together like this—alone?”
“Too many.” Nilda stared at the farms
as they trotted past. “Einar has done well, hasn’t he?”
“Ja, but at the cost of no friends or neighbors who come to visit.”
“You said he forbade everyone from coming on his land, so he did that himself.”
“And made life all the harder for Gerd. She refuses to talk about getting weaker and sicker, but I don’t think he ever really looked at her or realized how sick she was until he found her on the floor one day.”
“Either she hid things very well, or he really doesn’t care about anyone, just getting the work done.”
“I’d much rather hope it was the first.”
“Ja, me too.”
When they reached the turn in the road at Benson’s store, Mrs. Benson came from her house behind the store. Basket over her arm, she waved at them. “Good wonderful morning!”
Signe waved back. “You want a ride?”
“That’s okay, meet you there. Did you bring little Miss Kirstin?”
“No, she stayed home with Gerd.”
“Oh, sad, she is the sweetest baby ever.”
“Takk.”
Signe turned into the road beside the church that led to the school and the three or four houses beyond that. Nilda climbed down first and tied Rosie to a hitching rail in the shade of a maple tree by the church. A buggy and a trap were already tied there. They retrieved their baskets of food and a few pieces of fabric for the quilting, along with needles and thread, and joined Mrs. Benson at the front steps.
“We meet down in the basement, but outside would sure be more pleasant on a day like today. Perhaps we can bring our dinners out here.”
Signe paused on the steps, a wave of apprehension freezing her feet in place. What if—no, just keep going, she ordered herself. She followed Mrs. Benson into the narthex, which seemed dim after the brilliance outside.
Laughter and chatter floated up from those gathered.
“Good morning, everyone.” Mrs. Benson smiled.
“Good morning, Elmira,” sang out one of the women’s voices. “Now we can get started.”
“We have two new members this morning.” Mrs. Benson turned and nodded to Signe and Nilda. “I know you have met some of our church women, Signe, and now you will meet more of our group.” She took Signe’s arm and led her to the tables that had been pushed together to make a big square, with chairs all around and the quilting supplies in the middle. “Ladies, meet Mrs. Rune Carlson, Signe, and her sister-in-law, Nilda Carlson, recently arrived from Norway. Signe’s baby was baptized last Sunday, and I know some of you put baby things in a box for her last fall. Her little one is the sweetest baby imaginable. Now, Signe, you know Mrs. Jungkavn, our midwife, and Mrs. Engelbrett, who nursed little Kirstin when you were so ill.”
Signe nodded. “I can never thank either of you enough.”
“Our real pay is knowing both you and that baby are well and thriving. That was too close for comfort.” Mrs. Benson nodded again. “That Kirstin, she waits for no one.” She turned to the others. “See, God answered our prayers again.”
A murmur and smiles drifted around the table, and Signe started to relax.
But then a woman on the other side of the table pushed back her chair. “I cannot do this.” She gathered her things and headed for the stairs and out the door, leaving everyone blinking.
Signe watched, openmouthed. “What did I—?”
“You did nothing, Signe. This happened long before you came here.”
“But there is no need for her to leave. I mean, I—we can go back to the farm.”
Mrs. Jungkavn shook her head. “Please, Mrs. Carlson, join us. There is nothing you or any of us can do about the past. We are glad to have you here. Come, let’s continue.”
“Who was that?” Nilda whispered to Signe.
“Mrs. Olavson,” she replied. “She hates us, for some reason.”
Nilda move closer to Signe.
I just want to go home, Signe thought. Why will no one ever tell us what really happened? Surely Einar didn’t kill someone or something, did he?
“This is Mrs. Solum.” Mrs. Benson continued around the table, then turned to Signe and Nilda. “We will have a test after dinner to see how many names you remember.”
Nilda smiled. “That will be interesting.”
The women chuckled, and the heavy feeling was banished, sent up the stairs after Mrs. Olavson.
After the brief meeting and a devotion, Mrs. Torsing, who was in charge of the quilting, assigned all the jobs, and everyone set to their tasks, some sorting, some cutting, others piecing, and the remainders hand stitching.
“We trade off after dinner,” the woman next to Signe said. She smiled at Nilda across the table. “I am Kara Tolefson, Nilda. What part of Norway did you come from?”
“Valders region,” Nilda answered the question asked in Norwegian. “I am trying to learn English. We were told we needed to do that, so my younger brother Ivar and I tried. We didn’t get too far.”
“Mr. Larsson, who teaches at the school and plays the organ at church, will be teaching a weekly class this summer. He grew up speaking German but learned Norwegian, so he knows how hard it is to learn a language.”
“But you speak Norwegian?”
“I learned both growing up, thanks to my Norwegian mor and German father. They met in the lumber camps, and now he works for one of the big companies. I grew up south of Blackduck. My husband and I live in the white house right across from the school.”
Signe looked at Nilda. “English classes! We could both go. Or you could come home and teach me what you learned.” She turned back to Mrs. Tolefson. “Do you know when the class starts?”
“On Wednesday at seven in the evening here at the church.”
“We will be here.” Signe did not bother to check with Nilda. “Perhaps Ivar will come too.”
“Maybe, but he was learning faster than I was anyway,” Nilda said. “Leif said he would teach me, remember.”
They enjoyed their dinner outside, cleaned up, and switched to different assignments, and all too soon, three o’clock arrived. Some of the ladies took pieces to work on at home, but Signe shook her head when Nilda reached for a packet.
She whispered in Nilda’s ear. “Right now we have more than enough to work on at the house. We can make up for it next fall when we can use Gerd’s sewing machine.”
Nilda nodded and collected the empty bowls in which they had brought biscuits and egg salad.
“Do you still have pickles in your cellar?” Mrs. Benson asked Signe.
“Not anymore.”
“Then you take the rest of this jar. I have more at home.” She thrust a quart jar of bread-and-butter pickles into Signe’s hands.
“You are so generous. I have nothing to give back.”
“I hope you will have eggs and butter for the store soon, but I know you are all so busy out there, what with Einar down and you trying to get ready for the house-raising. And our delivery boys are at home too.” Mrs. Benson paused.
Signe smiled. “Ja, we will have more soon. I should have churned yesterday.”
“How is Einar doing?”
“Getting stronger, but really slowly. He is not a patient man.”
“So that slows him down or causes setbacks,” Nilda said firmly.
Mrs. Benson shook her head. “I understand. Well, you tell those boys that the cookie jar is full if they can get to the store.”
“I will.”
Mrs. Benson raised a finger. “Oh, and don’t you worry about feeding the men when they raise your house. We women will bring all the food and make a party out of it, just like a good, old-fashioned barn raising, only this time a house. Mr. Benson said we should be able to get it all framed and ready to roof on a Saturday and to get a good part of the roof done after church on Sunday.”
Signe clapped her mouth closed. “Is that possible? A two-story house?”
“You just watch.”
“But . . . but Einar . . .”
“Make no neverm
ind about him. We might cross his land, but we won’t stay on it. He’ll just have to learn that we take care of our own, and you are part of our church now. I’m sorry, but we should have been there before.”
Signe rested a hand on Mrs. Benson’s arm. “You were, remember?”
“I know, but I was shaking in my boots. As long as he was out in the woods . . . Gerd needed help, and we let her down. It’s hard to forgive myself for that.”
“But—”
“What she means is thank you,” Nilda said with a grin. “Come on, Signe, let’s get going before they send the boys to look for us.”
Driving home, Signe kept shaking her head.
On the wagon seat beside her, Nilda watched her. “All right, what is bothering you?”
“Well, first Mrs. Olavson storming out like that, but then all the others, so warm and welcoming . . . I—I didn’t expect that, is all.”
“It surprised me too, but then, I am new here. And I still don’t know half of their names.” Nilda smiled. “It was sometimes hard to get a word in edgewise with Mrs. Benson. And yet, they were all so cheerful and generous. I was starting to fear that everyone in Amerika would be like Onkel Einar. Someday I want to hear what really happened with him and whoever and whatever.”
“I tried to get Gerd to tell me, but she just shook her head. Whatever it was, she had no part in it.” Signe drew Rosie back to a walk. The old mare wanted to be home as much as Signe did.
“Not intentionally, anyway.”
Signe grimaced. “I would like the past to be in the past.”
“Sometimes, as Mor would say, you have to pick off the scab to let the festered wound heal.”
The clip clop of hooves, the warning of a crow, and a dog barking were the only sounds for a while.
A Breath of Hope Page 19