A Song of Joy

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Both the good and the bad?” Nilda asked.

  “I don’t think He makes the bad happen, but He allows it. One day when I was working in the shop, Reverend Skarstead dropped in to visit. He and I had quite a discussion. Would you believe he picked up a sanding block and went to work right along with me? Like he did on the buildings, especially this house.” He motioned to the building around them. “Somehow I think Jesus did the same. You can iron out a lot of problems when your hands are busy with something else.” He nodded gently as he talked.

  “Thank you. You gave me lots to think about.” She turned at Leif’s nudge to pass him her empty plate. She really had no idea what she had eaten, but it had to have been good.

  “The birthday cake,” Leif whispered to her.

  I wish I had brought him a present, she thought as a silence fell.

  Gunlaug pushed open the screen door with her foot and stepped out carrying the cake on a platter. “Happy birthday, Rune, and we pray you have many more.”

  The others echoed her wishes as she set the cake in front of him.

  “Frosting, even.” He smiled up at her. “Your famous boiled frosting?”

  “Ja, my arm is sore from beating it fluffy. You get the first piece.”

  “You mean I have to share this?”

  The boys groaned as if on cue. Gunlaug shook her head, her smile belying the stern look she tried to wear. “You want me to cut it, I suppose?”

  “Might be a good idea. I never excelled at cutting cakes.”

  “That’s because you never cut them.” Nilda flashed him an arch look with her lips rolled together. Ah, the delights of home.

  But how would she broach the topic of her nightmares with her mor? Surely she should be over it by now. After all, it happened months ago.

  Chapter

  5

  The Blackduck life has spoiled you.

  Nilda shifted to get comfortable on the rope bed, with its straw-stuffed “mattress” supported by ropes. This used to feel good at night. But then, she was always so tired that a blanket on the floor was sufficient. She stared up at the beams that held up the roof, not able to see them, but like so many things in life, knowing they were there. Her mor was already snoring softly in the bed beside her.

  Fear had her by the throat. She didn’t want to wake up screaming. Lord, help me. My mind says it is only a dream, but the memories only get worse. The gentle rhythm of her mother’s breathing finally accomplished what her mind could not.

  Sometime before the sky began to lighten, it attacked again. His fingers clenched around her throat. No breath, fight back, buck him off, the ski pole.

  A voice, someone shaking her. Not Dreng, her mor’s voice. She was not lying in a snowbank, she was in her bed at home.

  “Nilda, wake up, it’s a dream. Wake up.”

  “Ja, a dream.” She puffed the words out. The dream, always the dream. She started to sit up, then flopped back.

  “You were screaming and thrashing around. A miracle you did not throw yourself out of bed.”

  “I’m home, safe.”

  “Dreng is dead and buried. He cannot hurt you or anyone else anymore.”

  “I know, but the dream . . . how do I make it stop?”

  “I wish I knew.” Gunlaug sat up. “We know this is not of God.”

  Nilda did the same and leaned into her mother, who wrapped her arm around her. “Takk.”

  “Velbekomme.”

  “I always get so cold.”

  “Ja, it happened in the winter. If he weren’t dead already, I’d want to kill him.”

  Nilda nodded. “I think you are not the only one.”

  “But instead I remind myself to pray for you, although I have thought of sending his mor a rather forceful but honest letter. She . . . well, we won’t go into that.”

  Peace crept in through the open window and settled around them.

  “I have to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t my fault. That I didn’t kill him.” Nilda stared at her hands. Folded together as if praying but clenched so hard that she knew the knuckles were white. Relax, let go, she ordered. This is crazy. Her mor’s hand covered both of hers. Always in motion, Gunlaug’s touch, so full of love as to seem to glow. She rubbed gently, that gesture of love flowing from her hands directly to her daughter’s heart, and that released the tears.

  “I pray our God will use your tears to wash away the horror of that day and all the days before. We are not meant to suffer from fears and things that happened in the past. As you said, his death was not your fault, so I pray that God will bring about healing from that time and free you to grow in the grace He is pouring out upon you.” Gunlaug gathered her daughter into her arms. “Ah, my Nilda, my strong and beautiful daughter. Lord, let it be no more.” They breathed together, in the silence and peace of the night.

  Nilda felt sleep flow in through her mor’s arms and peaceful murmurings, washing away all thoughts and responses.

  She woke slowly, breathing gently, listening to the song of the meadowlark that floated in on the breeze through the open window. She knew she was home on the farm, but where was everyone? It was too quiet. Had they all gone away and left her here alone? Not that being alone was a problem. Right now she must have needed that.

  You should get up and get going. Not waste your precious time at home lying in bed.

  Oh hush, she ordered that scolding voice that always seemed so happy to be after her.

  Last night—had she dreamed her mor’s arms around her? No, surely not. The amazing thing was that she’d not heard nor felt her mor get up and begin her day. Where were all the others?

  Curiosity got the better of her. Stretching brought on yawning, and yawning brought on the urge to settle back into wherever she had been floating on a sea of peace. The meadowlark sang again, this time joined by an answering song from a distance away.

  Nilda swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood. First order of the day? The privy. How spoiled she had become with the indoor plumbing of the Schoenleber house in Blackduck. Not bothering with shoes, she snagged her wrap from the foot of the bed and hustled down the stairs and out the door.

  She could hear several voices now, the chickens clucking, the dog barking. Happy sounds. Most of the dew was already gone from the grass along the path. On the way back, she checked the sun. As she suspected, the morning was half gone. How could it have been so quiet? How could she have slept so long?

  “Tante Nilda, you finally got up!” Leif waved at her from the barn.

  She strolled toward him. “Where’s everybody?” How tender her feet had become. She never went barefoot in town. She realized she missed this. It was as if she lived two lives, her farm life and her town life.

  “At the other house or out in the woods. I just came to check on the sow. Mor said that if one of us woke you, we would know the wrath of Mor.” He giggled as he spoke.

  As if he were afraid of his mor. The thought made her laugh. Today anything would make her laugh.

  “We’re going on a picnic for dinner, down in the woods.” He and Rufus joined her at the well house. “You want me to pump water over your feet?”

  “What a grand idea, though they’re not real dirty.”

  Leif raised and pressed down on the handle, and in a couple of pumps, water gushed over her feet, soaking the nightdress she’d neglected to gather out of the way. “Change places?” he asked. They did, and he rolled his summer-toughened feet from side to side. “Feels good, huh?”

  “It sure does.”

  “Your feet are all white.”

  “I know. I wear shoes or slippers all the time.”

  “You need to come home more often.” He smiled at her, no longer the little boy who used to look up at her with a grin.

  “Leif, you are getting so tall.”

  “I know. My pants are all too short.”

  “I could sew ruffles on the bottom for you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You better hurry so we can g
o picnicking.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nilda patted his shoulder. “Thanks for the foot bath.”

  She gathered her wet gown up so she wouldn’t trip over it and strode back to the house. A picnic in the woods. What a grand idea.

  “Sorry I slept so late,” she announced when she and Leif arrived at the other house, the new house as they now called the home Rune had built for his family, the one the entire community had helped build. In the last year, so much had happened on the Carlson farm that it was hard to believe they hadn’t been there for years.

  “Let’s get our things in the wagon and go enjoy the coolness of the shade. It’s been too long since I’ve been out there,” Gunlaug said.

  Signe handed one basket to Leif. “Did you throw feed sacks in to sit on?”

  “And the horse blankets.”

  “What else do we need?”

  “We could take Tante’s rocking chair.” Leif chuckled as he escaped with the loaded basket.

  Tante Gerd tried not to laugh but gave up when Signe rolled her eyes. “That boy.”

  “You know, that is not a bad idea,” Signe said with a nod.

  “I do not need the rocking chair. How old do you think I am, anyway?” Gerd planted both fists on her hips and shot him one of those looks when he came back inside.

  Leif shrugged and backed up a bit. He scooped up the two jugs, one of coffee and one of tea with chokecherry syrup in it, a recent innovation by Signe. Kirstin took off right behind him. Now that she could walk well, she usually ran.

  “Are we all loaded?” Leif asked a bit later from the wagon seat of the cart with Tante Gerd beside him and Gunlaug sitting in the wagon bed. “Far, Mor, anything else?”

  “I sure as heaven hope not, or we’ll have to bring the larger wagon,” Rune said.

  Rosie tossed her head and stamped her front foot, clearly as impatient with all the waiting as Leif.

  Nilda and Signe followed the wagon, Kirstin swinging between them, giggling and chattering as if taking part in the conversation.

  “It feels so good to be here. Especially this time. It’s not like I’ve not been here since Dreng attacked me, but . . . but . . . this time is different.” How is it different? that other voice in her head chimed in. The two often had arguments.

  The little girl’s chortle brought her back from wherever she had been. She looked down at the child when she whimpered.

  “’Bout time you asked for a ride.” Signe stopped and swung Kirstin up into her arms. “You, my little one, are getting so grown up, walking along with us like this.” She kissed the rounded cheek with a loud smack, bringing forth another giggle. Kirstin patted her mor’s cheeks with both pudgy hands.

  “Let me carry her.” Nilda stopped and held out her arms. Kirstin studied her hands, then her face, and then leaned over to be hoisted into Nilda’s arms.

  Nilda hugged the little girl even closer on her hip. “She is not so hard to believe as Bjorn is. How could he become a man so quickly?”

  “He’s not even seventeen yet. Maybe if he’d not taken on a man’s job so soon and instead had gone to school, he could have remained a boy a bit longer.”

  Since they’d been strolling rather than striding, Rosie and the wagon were already to where the most recent trees had been felled. Just that morning, Bjorn, Knute, and Ivar had brought it down and started on the limbing.

  “Over here.” Leif waved to them from where the team and now Rosie were all tied. “We’re going over to the creek.”

  “We’re coming.”

  Nilda and Signe swapped smiles. As if they did not know the way. Leave it to Leif to make sure.

  Nilda suggested, “If we take our time, they will have it all set up, and we can just sit down and enjoy ourselves.”

  “Nilda Carlson, whatever has gotten into you?” Signe tried to look shocked, but a chuckle escaped instead. “I know, it’s living in town with staff to take care of you. Be careful you don’t get spoiled.”

  “You might be right. I’ll be careful.” She thought of the bed she’d slept in. She already was spoiled.

  “Mo. Mo.” Kirstin had her own names for her family.

  Signe reached for her. “Come on, baby. You must be thirsty by now. I know we are.”

  The creek gurgled over rocks and slid under ferns and moss as it meandered toward the river, not seeming to be in as much of a hurry as in other seasons. The broad, shallow hole they had finally dug out upstream for swimming was a deep wading pool right now. Even so, the boys shucked their boots and splashed in, clothes and all. While it wasn’t deep enough or big enough for real diving and swimming, the clear, singing water did a grand job of cooling off anyone who jumped in.

  While the boys whooped and splashed in the water, the others set out the food and drinks on a massive stump they had leveled for a table. When they had logged off the big trees and created this clearing, they had left the smaller ones, and pine and maple had already grown tall enough to create shade.

  “Surely this is paradise,” Nilda said as she stared up at the blue sky and puffy clouds floating above the virgin forest on the other side of the creek.

  “Food’s ready,” Signe shouted to be heard over the boy noise.

  Gerd sat on an old log they had rolled over on another visit, shaded by the young pine. “All those years we lived here and I never . . .” She heaved a sigh. “I guess that makes me even more grateful now.”

  Signe handed her a plate. “Enough here to share.” She smiled at her daughter, who was sitting still for a change, next to Gerd.

  “Let’s have grace.” Even Rune’s voice sounded more peaceful.

  But would peace, even lots of peace, quiet the nightmares?

  Chapter

  6

  Hurry up, we’re going to be late,” Rune called from the wagon.

  “Here, you take Kirstin.” Signe glanced around the room. She knew she was forgetting something. Gerd was already out on the wagon seat. Today the whole family would be at church together.

  Shutting the door behind her, she paused at the top of the steps. Such a glorious morning. Gunlaug, Nilda, and Ivar were waiting at the other house. She let Rune help her up into the wagon bed. He’d built a bench for the women to sit on right behind the wagon seat. Bjorn was driving, so Knute and Leif jumped in after her.

  At the other house, Ivar helped Gunlaug and Nilda up into the wagon. As soon as they were seated, Bjorn clucked the team into a trot.

  “Looking mighty prosperous,” Nilda whispered in Signe’s ear as they watched the houses and farm buildings go by.

  Rufus always stopped at the corner of the fence and sat down.

  “You think he waits there the whole time we’re gone?” Leif asked from his seat at his mother’s feet. Kirstin sat beside him, banging her rattle on the wagon bed, then on up Leif’s leg.

  “Ef, Ef, Ef.” She played with his name.

  “Who’s this?” he asked, touching Signe’s skirt.

  “Mo.” She waved her rattle and beamed at her mother.

  “And this?” He touched Gunlaug this time.

  Kirstin studied her and nodded. “Momo.” She rolled her lips on the m’s.

  “And her?” He pointed up to Gerd.

  “Momo.” Her smile widened. “Momo, Momo.” She giggled and pointed her finger at him. “You Momo.”

  Nilda and Signe swapped astonished grins. Kirstin was teasing her brother. “Kinda young for that, isn’t she?” Nilda said under her breath.

  Leif shook his head so hard that his cap almost came loose. “I’m not Momo.” He pointed to his chest. He poked her chest with one finger. “You Momo.”

  She stared at him, then frowned and shook her head. “You Ef.”

  “So who are you?”

  She looked puzzled.

  “You Kirstin.”

  “B-Bebe.” She studied him, then pointed her finger. “Ef. Ef.”

  He tickled her ’til she squirmed. “You used to be Baby, but now you are Kirstin.”

 
; “Bebe.”

  “Kirstin, Kirstin, Kirstin.” He sang her name, making her smile again.

  “She likes singing, doesn’t she?” Nilda said.

  “She should. Gerd sang to her so often.” Signe felt a surge of joy. “I have a little girl, when for so long I figured I needed to be content with my three boys. God has been so good to us, far more than I ever dreamed.”

  Leif held on to Kirstin as she stood and reached for her mother. Gunlaug lifted her instead. Kirstin stood on her lap and reached for Gerd. “No, you stay here.”

  Kirstin stuck her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and studied her grandmother. “Momo.”

  “Ja, that I am.” She kept her hands firmly locked around the little one’s waist. “Don’t you go taking a header off my lap now.”

  Kirstin pointed at Gerd. “Momo.”

  Signe watched her little daughter with delight. And gratitude for all the help she’d had.

  Bjorn turned the trotting team onto the road toward Blackduck, then turned left past the school. He guided the team into the churchyard and joined the other wagons and buggies at the hitching rail that stretched the length of the church. More rails lined the street. The Lutheran church was painted white with a steeple that included a bell tower. Someone would ring the bell in a few minutes, calling the people of Benson’s Corner to worship. Signe loved the song of the bell.

  Nilda set Kirstin down, and she dove into Rune’s arms. He propped her on his hip and held out a hand to Gunlaug.

  Signe headed up the church steps for the open door, greeting people as she went. She smiled. It felt so good to be here, among good friends and close to God.

  As always, Mrs. Benson greeted her warmly at the door. “I see that Nilda is home for a visit.”

  “A surprise. And for Rune’s birthday too. She has to go back tomorrow morning, but we have had such a good visit.”

  “She still likes working for Mrs. Schoenleber?”

  “Oh, yes. But I know she gets homesick at times. Such a different life.”