A Song of Joy

by Lauraine Snelling

  Without further thought, coffee in hand, she strode into the kitchen, nearly slamming into Charles with the swinging door.

  “Sorry, I just decided eating at the table outside might help.”

  “Good idea. I’ll wipe it off.” He grabbed the rag Cook tossed him and, plate in one hand, rag in the other, marched outside. “Give me just a moment.” After wiping down both the small round table and a matching iron chair, he set down her roll. “I could have brought your coffee out for you.”

  “You could have, but you didn’t realize what I was going to do. Neither did I.” She sat when he pulled out the chair and raised her face to the sun. “This is wonderful. Perhaps we need to do this more often.”

  “Eggs, biscuits? What is your pleasure? The baked eggs were perfect.”

  “Eggs scrambled, bacon, and a piece of toast. Oh, and please make it only one egg.”

  “Shredded potatoes? Jam?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She was just unwinding the last bit of cinnamon roll when Mrs. Schoenleber stepped through the French doors and onto the verandah of gray slate warming in the sun. Pots of nasturtiums that had been started in the greenhouse lined the windows with splashes of bright yellow and orange. “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, her smile spreading both comfort and concern.

  “Not in the least.” Nilda pushed back her plate.

  “I thought I smelled cinnamon rolls. That is another excuse to join you.” When seated, she leaned forward, resting a hand on Nilda’s arm. “Bad night again?”

  “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry.”

  “As if you could control your dreams—or rather, in this case, nightmares.”

  “I’m becoming afraid to fall asleep.”

  Charles stopped at their table with a tray and set a cup and saucer in front of Mrs. Schoenleber. After he filled her cup, he refilled Nilda’s. “Your breakfast will be out in a bit.” With a flourish, he lifted a domed lid covering more cinnamon rolls, now drizzled with frosting. “Cook was saving these for later, but I suggested that later has already arrived.”

  “You figured right.” Taking a bite even before setting the roll on her plate, Mrs. Schoenleber closed her eyes. “The better to taste it,” she said. She wiped her lips with a napkin and studied Nilda. “I have a suggestion, if I may.”

  Please not another trip to the Cities. Nilda swallowed. “Of course.”

  “I’ve been thinking. Perhaps a trip home would break the cycle.” She raised a hand to stop Nilda before she got out more than the “but.” “I know we have a lot to do, but you and your health are far more important to me than the proposals. Beyond that, you have everything in order for the social, and since it is ten days away, I suggest four days at home. That will make up for the days you missed.”

  “Your breakfast, Miss Nilda.” Charles set the domed plate in front of her and lifted the lid. “Now, can I get you anything else?”

  Nilda shot him a smile as she shook her head. Home. The kindness of the offer made her eyes burn. To see her mor and all the rest of the family. “When?”

  “Tomorrow. I will call Mrs. Benson and have her run a message out to the farm. Unless you would rather surprise them.”

  “Yes, I would. Surprising them sounds wonderful. Thank you.” She clasped her employer’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “Now we will pray that this is the perfect cure. Charles will have the horse and buggy ready by seven thirty so you arrive before dinnertime.”

  Home. I get to go home. Was she really this homesick, or were the nightmares affecting her more than she realized?

  That night her clock read 3 AM when she turned on the light, still shaking from the horror. Every time she closed her eyes, she could hear him, see him, smell him. Each night the dream seemed more real, or maybe she was just more susceptible.

  A tap at the door caught her attention. “Y-yes?”

  Gilda pushed open the door. “I brought you tea and toast. My ma always said tea helped her relax.” She set the tray on the seat of the chair. “Here, let me help you get settled. My goodness, you are shaking something fierce.” She took the shawl that Nilda kept looped over the frame at the foot of the bed and tucked it around Nilda’s shoulders. “There now. Ma always said add sugar, and I brought milk in case you might like to try that. I was real quiet, so I didn’t wake Cook. You know how she don’t like anyone fussing in her kitchen.” Stirring the cup one more time to melt the sugar, she handed it to Nilda.

  “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “I know you don’t mean to.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Gilda turned to face Nilda, who dutifully sipped the tea. The warmth going down her throat did feel good.

  “Thank you. I think having another person near helps the most, like the dream is afraid to come out in the light and company.” Her eyes felt branded by hot coals.

  “How about a warm cloth for your face, or would cold be better?”

  “Warm, I think.”

  Returning after a moment, Gilda took the cup and saucer and handed Nilda the warm cloth. Burying her face in it, Nilda heaved a sigh. Such horror to endure months after Dreng had gone to the darkness where he belonged. How could he hate her so? Why would he? She’d done nothing to hurt him—well, not physically, but she had hurt his pride. His mor had spoiled him something fierce, but the justice meted out by her brothers and some friends should have made him think twice. He’d thought, all right—all about how to get even, all aimed at her.

  She drained the cup and set the saucer on the stand by her bed. A kerosene lamp took up a good part of the surface, kept there just in case the gaslights failed. “Thank you again.” She looked toward her valise near the chifforobe, already packed but for her hairbrush and comb set, a gift from Mrs. Schoenleber last Christmas.

  “That is all you are taking?” Gilda asked.

  “I have clothes at the farm, and if I need more, I can borrow from Signe.”

  “If you’re sure, then?”

  “You go back to bed now, and thank you again.” Nilda snuggled down under the sheet and light summer blanket. Was there any chance she could fall asleep again and not dream?

  Nilda set her valise outside her bedroom door and made her way down to the kitchen as soon as she heard Cook up and about. While the sun still lurked below the horizon, the eastern sky wore a cloak of lemon. The diamonds that hid in the dew of the grass had yet to sparkle and glitter. Even the birds sounded sleepy. The rooster out in the pen behind the stables crowed once, as if he had just awakened himself. The next attempt revealed his full range. Nilda didn’t usually hear him because she slept later now at Mrs. Schoenleber’s . . . at least she used to, before the nightmares. Perhaps being back on the farm would help her sleep well again.

  The five miles of road seemed to fly past as the horse trotted to Benson’s Corner. Nilda waved to Mrs. Benson, who was helping a customer load her supplies in the back of a wagon.

  “Wonderful to see you, Nilda,” Mrs. Benson called.

  Nilda could hardly hear her over the noise of the buggy, but she waved and nodded.

  “So we really are going to just show up and surprise them?” George looked over his shoulder, pulling the horse back to a slow jog now.

  “Yes, just in case something happened and I had to change plans.”

  She watched the familiar farms pass by until they finally turned left onto the lane to the Carlson farm. Rufus came charging down the two lines of dirt with a strip of green between, barking a warning. But as soon as he heard Nilda’s voice, he switched to happy, welcoming yips.

  “Good boy.” She looked ahead to the old house, the one she’d lived in from the time she and Ivar arrived. Right now, only Gunlaug and her youngest son slept there. Rune’s family and Tante Gerd lived at the new house that glowed between the barn and the woods. The distance between house and virgin timber had widened; they had taken out so many trees.

  No one came to the porch in spite of the dog barking. But just as George helped Nilda down
from the buggy, Gunlaug pushed open the screen door.

  “Oh, goodness, look who’s here. I was at the loom and didn’t realize why Rufus was barking. Oh, my.”

  Nilda met her mor at the bottom of the porch steps, burying herself in her mor’s arms. Their tears of joy left them both sniffing.

  “What a surprise. Did anyone know you were coming?” Gunlaug asked.

  “No, I just learned myself yesterday.”

  “Where would you like this?” George asked, his smile wide as he hefted the valise.

  “Up on the porch. Thank you.” Nilda kept her arm around Gunlaug’s waist.

  “Can you stay for dinner or at least coffee?” Gunlaug asked George.

  “Thank you, but no. I need to get back to town, and Cook sent a sandwich and coffee along with me.” He looked at Nilda. “I will be here as early as I can on Monday morning.”

  “Yes, I know,” Nilda assured him, “but you realize Norwegians make sure all guests have coffee and cookies at least. You wouldn’t want to offend them.”

  “Of course not. See you on Monday. Good day, Mrs. Carlson.” He tipped his hat and returned to the buggy.

  “Takk, er, thank you.” Gunlaug waved, and together they watched him turn the horse and buggy back toward the road. Arm in arm, they climbed the steps and entered the quiet house.

  “Don’t you all eat over here any longer?” Nilda asked.

  “Usually, but today Signe and Gerd decided to fix dinner at the other house. We are planning to eat outside to celebrate Rune’s birthday. I baked the cake here so he wouldn’t know this was coming.” She pointed to a round layer cake iced in white boiled frosting.

  “A surprise?”

  “Ja, and will he ever be surprised. Leave your bag here, and we’ll walk on over. We can take turns carrying the cake.”

  Leif ran out from the barn to accompany them. “Tante Nilda, you’re here!” He threw his arms around her waist. “I was beginning to think you were never coming back.” He grinned up at her. “When are you coming home to stay? After dinner I’ll show you all my baby pigs. One of the hens hatched another batch.” His words tumbled over each other as he threw a little jump into his stride every now and then.

  “Let’s see. I think my home is now in Blackduck, at least as far as I can tell, but I will come to visit, and perhaps this summer you can ride Rosie into town to visit me.”

  His eyes rounded. “You think so? Really?”

  “Why not?” Mrs. Schoenleber had encouraged her to invite her family to visit. “Perhaps you and Grandma could come together on the train.”

  He grinned at Gunlaug. “Soon, Grandma, let’s go soon. Well, as soon as I can leave my pigs. All the sows are done farrowing now.”

  Signe brought a tablecloth out to throw over the table set on the porch. When she turned, she dropped the cloth and tore down the steps. “Nilda, you came home. Oh, my. What a shock, what a wonderful shock.” She threw her arms around Nilda, the two of them hugging hard. She drew back. “Are you all right? Is something wrong? Are you home to stay?”

  “Yes, no, and no. But I don’t go back until Monday.”

  Signe laughed. “I can’t believe this. You can be Rune’s birthday present. Couldn’t have planned anything better if I’d tried.”

  “They should be up pretty soon.” Gunlaug looked out over the fields to where the men were blowing up stumps. An explosion sent a stump, dirt, and rocks into the air. The debris almost settled before the second stump blew, followed by three more.

  When all was quiet once more, Signe said, “They just blew their morning’s work to smithereens.”

  Nilda burst out laughing. “That’s for sure. What a show. Let’s hurry and get inside before they see me. Seeing Rune’s face when he comes through that door will be something.”

  Kirstin looked up from her place on the floor where she had blocks scattered around her.

  “My land, look who’s here.” Tante Gerd skirted Kirstin to hug Nilda. “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you.” Nilda blinked and felt the tears trying to attack her. This was her family, and she did not see them often enough. What would it be like to leave Mrs. Schoenleber and move back to the farm?

  “You feeling all right?” Gerd studied her. “You been sick?”

  “No, not sick.” Well, perhaps sick at heart. Should she tell them all or . . . ? Not now. This was Rune’s birthday, and while he didn’t care a lot about birthdays, today they would have a party.

  Gerd tipped her head to the side. “The prodigal has come home?” She nodded. “Today we have much to celebrate.”

  Nilda swapped questioning looks with Signe. As best friends for so many years, often they could read each other’s minds. Signe nodded and smiled. Yes, there were great changes, all to be talked about later.

  “Ma?” Kirstin tugged on Signe’s apron and held up her arms, all the while eyeing the visitor. When Signe swung her daughter up to her hip, she kissed her cheek. “You remember Tante Nilda. She’s not been gone that long.”

  Kirstin’s thumb and forefinger found their way to her mouth as she leaned her cheek against her mother’s shoulder.

  “You’re right, little one, this must seem like a long time to you, but I haven’t forgotten you.” Nilda reached over and tickled the bottom of a little bare foot. Kirstin jerked her foot back, then let it slide forward again. The next tickle brought out a smile and the third a giggle. The thumb left her mouth, and she waved at Nilda. They giggled together. “Oh, baby girl, I’ve missed you. There are no babies where I live.”

  “You could come back home, then,” Leif suggested.

  Kirstin reached for him. “Ef, Ef.”

  “She can’t say my name yet.”

  “Well, she’s pretty young to be talking much at all,” Nilda said.

  “She knows lots of words.”

  “Leif teaches her,” Signe said. “She goes with him all over, mostly in the wagon.”

  Kirstin looked toward the door. “Go? Go, Ef?”

  “See?”

  Boots hit the steps. The women stared at each other, then started to laugh.

  “Where’s the dinner?” Rune asked as he stepped in the doorway. “Oh, my word.” He crossed the space and swept Nilda into his arms. “You finally decided to come home. I was beginning to think you’d given up on us.”

  Nilda hugged him close. “Never. Happy birthday.” She leaned back. “You know, you could come calling when you come to Blackduck.”

  “I know, but we are always in such a hurry. And besides, I don’t remember when we last went there.”

  “We pick up most of what we need at the train station, or the Bensons order for us.” Ivar looked her up and down. “I guess life there agrees with you.”

  “I guess it does.” She studied him back. “Between you and Bjorn, are you trying to out-muscle each other?”

  She hugged her younger brother, then Bjorn, who ducked his chin, trying to ignore the red creeping up his neck. Knute pointed at him and snickered.

  “I think you might bring Bjorn with you when you come for the next social, brother. You received an invitation, right?” Nilda asked.

  Ivar nodded. “I thought perhaps I would miss this one. There is so much to do here.”

  “There will always be so much to do.” Rune slapped his shoulder. “And if Bjorn would like to go . . .”

  Bjorn shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? A chance to meet some lovely young women and have a good time.” Nilda looked to Ivar, who subtly motioned to his clothes. “Ah, I see. Well, we can take care of that.”

  Nilda looked down at a tugging on her skirt. Kirstin stood with her arms raised. “So now you remember who I am?” She swept the little girl into her arms and twirled her around as she used to do. Kirstin went from hesitant to giggles to chortles to shrieks in three turns.

  While they’d been talking, the other women had moved the platter of fried chicken, bowl of potatoes, greens with bacon, and fresh rolls to
the table outside. They all trooped out to sit at the table there.

  “Just think, soon those trees we have planted will shade this house, like they are beginning to the other.” Signe motioned to the birch and cottonwood trees planted at either corner. She had insisted they plant them the previous fall after she and Knute went searching for saplings. Both had new growth, thanks to all the wash water thrown on them, just like the rosebush that Fritz had given them at English class one evening when Nilda and Signe attended. Well, Fritz had delivered them, but Mrs. Schoenleber was the one who had given them. Why did she think of Fritz first?

  After grace, Nilda watched and listened to her family. They were speaking English with sprinkles of Norwegian when an unusual word was needed.

  “How long are you here?” Rune asked while they were passing food.

  “George will pick me up Monday morning. But I am serious about Bjorn coming with Ivar. I have a feeling he is concerned about his clothes, so I will make sure that is taken care of. I think Ivar probably needs a new shirt too. He’s broadened out in the shoulders so.”

  “They work hard, those two.” Rune tackled his food.

  “You all work hard.”

  “That’s what it takes to survive out here. And we want to do more than survive.”

  “Spoken like a true Norwegian.” Gerd bobbed her head.

  “God has given us so much, how can we do less than our best?” Signe said.

  “Yes, I feel the same.”

  Rune studied Nilda. “What is going on that we have this surprise visit? I have a feeling it being my birthday was purely accidental.”

  To tell him or not? “I need to talk with Mor.”

  “Can I help?”

  She stared down at her plate. “I think I need her wisdom. She’s lived a lot more years than you or I.”

  “If I can help you, you know I will.”

  Blinking back tears, she laid her hand over his. “I know that. With everything in me, I know that.”

  He turned his hand over and clasped hers. “I finally believe that you—that we all—are right where God would have us to be. I didn’t at first, but sanding skis leaves a lot of time to think. If I believe He loves us, I must believe that He knows best and that He alone is the one who can make things happen.”