A Song of Joy

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Miss Nilda, we’ll be leaving for the station in about five minutes,” George announced.

  “Oh. Oh my goodness.”

  She shut the cover over the keys and headed for the powder room just down the hall. Checking her image in the mirror, she made a face and dried her hands. Mor is almost here. Oh, I have so much to show her.

  “You think they will want to go shopping?” she asked as she stepped back into the sun-room.

  “I assumed that would be on your list,” Mrs. Schoenleber replied. “Dinner will be ready by the time they are settled.”

  Nilda flew out the front door, and only at George’s arched eyebrows did she not jump into the buggy without assistance. More than once she had received a rebuke via George’s eyebrows.

  “I am so excited.” She settled into the seat facing forward.

  “I can tell.”

  “It shows?”

  “It most definitely shows, miss.”

  She knew he added the miss to make his point.

  “Where is your parasol?” he asked.

  Nilda tried to touch the broad brim of her straw hat with her own eyebrows. “In the hall closet. We won’t be out long.”

  “Unless the train is late.” The team trotted smartly down the street, kicking up a bit of a breeze. “We are early, Miss Nilda. You will not see the train yet.”

  Nilda made herself sit back against the seat. Decorum might be ladylike, but right now all she cared about was seeing her mor here in Blackduck for a real visit, albeit a short one. But short was better than nothing. What would Leif think of the house and the way she was living? What might he enjoy doing? There were no animals here for him to take care of. Would he be lost? Was Knute jealous, or did he even want to come to town? It seemed all he wanted was to be fishing or out in the big trees with Ivar and Bjorn. Now, Bjorn, he did enjoy the social, even though he was the youngest there. And while he had never played croquet before, he caught on quickly.

  The whistle announced the coming train. George climbed down and, with a smile of approval, held out his hand to assist her.

  “Thank you, George. You have been most circumspect.”

  “As in proper?”

  She recognized the laughter lurking in his eyes. “Disgustingly so.”

  “You never know who might be watching.”

  Nilda had come to realize that she should care about appearances because of Mrs. Schoenleber’s position in the town, but she still struggled with it. At least out on the farm, the cows and chickens and dog and cats did not care if she were proper or not, as long as she fed them on time. There were pluses on both sides of the equation.

  The train steamed and screeched, wheels locking to stop the heavy engine. The engineer returned Nilda’s wave, and as soon as the conductor set the steel bench by a door, she headed toward it. The door slid open, and Leif stood at the head of the steps, already waving at her.

  “We’re here. We’re really here.” He didn’t bother with the conductor’s assisting hand, instead leaping over the step and flying into Nilda’s arms. She squeezed him tight, all the while watching Gunlaug carefully descend the three steps and take the conductor’s hand for the final one.

  “Uff da. Er, thank you.”

  “You are welcome. I think there is someone having a hard time waiting for you.” He reached into the train and picked up her carpetbag. “Enjoy your stay.”

  Nilda threw decorum over her shoulder and let herself be enveloped in her mother’s hug. “It feels like months since I saw you, not just weeks. I am so glad you are here.”

  “We came so fast, we could hardly see the country.” Gunlaug resettled Nilda’s hat on her head. “Leif was so excited he couldn’t sit still.”

  “Do you have more baggage?” Nilda locked her arm through her mor’s.

  “Yes, those two boxes they are just unloading. Oh, and two pairs of skis I am to deliver.” She watched the cargo being carried off the train. “Ah, there they are.”

  Nilda caught George’s eye and pointed down the platform. “Goodness, did you come to stay?” she asked.

  “No, but Rune made a gift for you. Now, keep in mind that if you’d rather not have it here, his feelings won’t be hurt. We can use it at home.”

  A gift? Nilda put the thought aside for later. “If he had known you were bringing so much, George would have brought a larger carriage.”

  They walked over to where the horse and buggy waited.

  Leif was already helping George load the baggage. “He said we need to keep the skis with us.”

  “George, I’d like you to meet my mother, Gunlaug Carlson, and my nephew Leif.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, madam.” George turned to Leif. “If you would ride up with me, we could put that last box inside.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. George. I’d be glad to.” Leif scrambled up to the driver’s seat. “What is your horse’s name? I drive Rosie at home. Knute and I ride her to school too.”

  Nilda caught George’s eye when he turned to make sure all was ready. “Thank you.” She slid her hand into her mother’s. “I am so very glad you are here. I have a feeling George will have a shadow for the time.” She pointed out the landmarks as they trotted home.

  “My, but this is a busy place,” Gunlaug said.

  “If there is anything you would like to see while you are here, just tell me.”

  “I have a list for the mercantile. Things the Bensons aren’t carrying, although she will order anything we want. She said to greet you and ask when you are coming to the farm again, that perhaps you can stop for a visit.”

  “That’s nice of her. That’s the Schoenleber house up there on the left.”

  Gunlaug started to stand as soon as the buggy stopped, but Nilda laid a restraining hand on her arm. When George had the step lowered and held out his hand, Nilda nodded.

  Leif swung down and stood looking at the house, his head tipped back as he surveyed the roof line. The look he gave Nilda made her smile. He would have plenty of questions; she could nearly see his curiosity bubbling over.

  When Gunlaug reached for her carpetbag, George got it before she could. “Let me get that, madam. You and Miss Nilda go on in. I’m sure dinner is ready and waiting. You go with them too, Master Leif. Your things will be up in your rooms for later.”

  Leif shrugged and shot Nilda another questioning look. She would have to explain how things were different here. Leif was used to helping, often without being asked. He saw what needed to be done and went ahead and did it, a rare gift in a child his age. For that matter, in people in general.

  “George is right, dinner should be ready. Are you hungry, Leif?”

  “Tante Nilda, you know I am always hungry.” Halfway to the door, he whispered to her, “How come Mr. George wouldn’t let me help?”

  “Because that is his job, along with the gardening and taking care of the grounds. And whatever else he sees that needs doing outside. You will meet Charles in a minute. He is the butler who takes care of things inside. He will serve the meals, along with the maid, Stella. Mrs. Schoenleber hires them. Oh, and Mrs. Solvang too, but she likes to be called Cook.”

  Leif was still pondering this when the door opened and Charles welcomed them in. Nilda introduced them, and Charles nodded with a smile. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Master Leif. Your aunt, your uncle, and your teacher all speak very highly of you.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” But his eyes screamed questions.

  “If you would like to wash up in the powder room downstairs, madam, dinner will be served right away.”

  “Thank you.” Gunlaug only hesitated a fraction of a second, but Nilda could see the effort it took to speak English.

  “Come, Mother, I will show you the way.”

  When they were seated and grace had been said, Charles announced the soup as he set shallow bowls in front of them.

  “Just do what I do,” Nilda whispered in Leif’s ear. He was seated on her right side. He nodded and
did exactly that.

  “Leif, I hear that you like to read.” Mrs. Schoenleber smiled at him.

  “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

  “I have a rather well-stocked library. Nilda will show you, and you are welcome to read anything you want. You could take some books home with you, if you’d like.”

  “Really?” He thought a moment. “Do you have books by Mark Twain? Like Tom Sawyer?”

  “I do. He is a remarkable author. What books of his have you read?”

  “Mr. Larsson read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer to us last year. If we get our work done, he reads to us every day. But I would like to read it myself, all the way through, without waiting for reading time.”

  “Then you shall do that. You might look at The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn too, and my favorite of all of his books is A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. Have you read Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe or Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson?”

  Leif shook his head. “But I will.”

  “Do you have a library at your school?”

  “No, ma’am. The teachers each have some reading books in their rooms, but that’s all.”

  “Hmm, we will have to see about that.”

  Charles removed the bowls. He said softly to Leif, “Never fear, you won’t go hungry.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned closer and whispered to Nilda, “How did he know I wanted more?”

  “Oh, I think he knows about growing boys.”

  She watched his eyes grow wide as Charles set a plate of pork chops with applesauce, potatoes and gravy, and green beans mixed with baby onions in front of him. Charles then set a roll on each bread plate.

  Nilda picked up the butter knife and sliced off a pat of butter to put on the bread plate, then passed the butter to Leif. Again he copied her exactly and looked across the table at Gunlaug. How to get it to her? He pushed back his chair and started to get up.

  Charles came to his side and took the butter plate. “Let me do that for you. You just enjoy your dinner.” He bent over and picked up Leif’s napkin to tuck back in his lap.

  “Thank you.”

  Nilda cared about Charles, but the way he was treating Leif made her want to hug him.

  Mrs. Schoenleber suggested, “When we’ve finished dinner, Nilda, why don’t you take Leif on a tour of the house, ending in the library, while Gunlaug and I visit in the sun-room?”

  Gunlaug smiled. “I have some things in the boxes that I will show you when you get back.”

  Nilda smiled at her mor. “Of course.”

  When the meal was finished, Nilda led Leif up the stairs. “First of all, I will show you your room. You and your grandma will share a bath.” She showed him the room and watched his face.

  At the window he turned around. “All this for me?” He used the stool to climb up on the bed and flopped back on it, his arms straight out. Nilda knew exactly how he felt. She showed him how to use the facilities, including the hot and cold water faucets.

  “No pump.”

  “I know. Pretty amazing. Now, my room is right there across the hall.” She opened the door to show him. “Tomorrow we are going shopping to buy you and Knute boots and clothes for school. I can see your pants and sleeves are getting short.”

  “I’m growing, but I will have Knute’s clothes, or what’s left of them.”

  “Mrs. Schoenleber would like to do this for you. And you always need new boots.”

  Down in the kitchen, she introduced him to Cook. “You sure made a good dinner,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Did you get filled up?”

  He nodded. “But I can always eat more.” He looked around. “You have fancy stoves and lots of cupboards.”

  “A big pantry too.” She bent over and pulled a pan of cookies out of the oven. “I hope you like ginger cookies. I found a cookie cutter just for you.” She pointed at the gingerbread men on the cookie sheet. “Do you think I should frost them or leave them as is?”

  He watched as she slid them onto dish towels on the table. “I think some of each. That looks like buttons on them. Are they raisins?”

  “Yes. Help yourself, but be careful, they’re hot. I thought if you like these, perhaps I could send some home with you.”

  “That would be good. Knute would love it.” He picked up a cookie and blew on it.

  “I warned you.”

  “I know, but I can’t wait.” He took a bite and sucked in air around it. “We’re going to the library next.”

  Cook grinned. “You might want to take a couple with you, just in case you get lost or something.”

  Nilda laughed. “Come along, Leif. I’ll show you the stables and the garden later, or you can just wander around and come ask me any questions.”

  “Okay.”

  When they reached the library, he stopped in the doorway. Bookshelves reached clear to the ten-foot ceiling with a ladder one could push along on a track to reach the high shelves. Many of the books were leather-bound, and all were arranged according to topic and alphabetically by author.

  Leif stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly. “All these belong to her?”

  “Yes. You can read the topics in that strip of printing on the shelves.”

  Gazing raptly at the walls, he bumped into the desk. “Is this your desk?”

  “Yes, I work in here.”

  “And with all these books, anytime you like.”

  “I used to work out in the sun-room, but with this new gadget, I’ve moved in here. It’s quite loud, you see.” She laid a hand on the machine. “This is a typewriter. I am still learning to use it. I’ll show you later, if you like.”

  She watched him walk slowly in front of the shelves, reading the topics. He reached out and touched them, as if to make sure they were real. “Look! Mark Twain. And Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island! She really means I can read these?”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Oh, Nilda!” Like an archaeologist choosing a precious artifact, he carefully pulled a leather-bound book from the shelf. With legs crossed, he sank to the floor and opened it. “‘Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen. . . .’”

  Smiling outrageously, Nilda left him there and went to find the ladies. They were settled in the lovely wicker chairs in the sun-room. “He’s lost in Treasure Island,” she reported. “Didn’t get as far as Twain.”

  Mrs. Schoenleber smiled. “Your mother says he loves books as much as he loves animals. I would like to have seen his face.”

  “Rapture.”

  “Good. We will fix up a box for him to take home.”

  Nilda’s heart quailed. “But what if—if something happens to one of the books?”

  Mrs. Schoenleber shrugged. “It is just a book that can be replaced. The dreams and mind of that child cannot be replaced. I have a feeling God has great things in store for him, and I look forward to helping any way I can.” She turned to Nilda. “First of all, we need to see about setting up a library for that school. No school should be without plenty of books for their students to read, not even small ones, or especially not small ones out in the country.” She nodded slowly and seemed to be staring at nothing.

  Nilda knew an idea was brewing. She also knew better than to ask anything at this point. When Mrs. Schoenleber had given it sufficient thought, then she would learn of it.

  “Mor, would you like to walk in the garden?” she asked.

  “Yes, definitely, and I have a surprise for you.” Gunlaug looked to Mrs. Schoenleber, who was obviously thinking.

  “Come along,” Nilda said, “she’ll catch up when she’s ready.” Together they paused in the doorway. “I love all of this.” Nilda’s sweeping gesture encompassed the beauty around them. “And look, a greenhouse.”

&
nbsp; They strolled across the verandah.

  “The kitchen and herb gardens are out here behind the greenhouse. Whenever the flowers in the house start to fade, I come out here and cut more. Miss Walstead, my teacher whom you will meet tomorrow, taught me about flower arranging, and I take absolute delight in doing so.”

  Gunlaug bent to sniff several of the roses. “I hope ours bloom this summer.”

  “We’ll ask George if he thinks they will. Perhaps he has a few more cuttings you could take home.”

  “At this rate, we’ll need Rune to bring the wagon to carry all the boxes home.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  “Wait. Look. Are these plant stakes?” Gunlaug pointed to the peavine stakes. The top several inches of each one was carved into a clever little animal or plant. She ran her fingers across a stake, shaped like a rabbit with its ears and feet tucked in.

  “George carves them. No one asked him to. He does it for pleasure. He says that he and Charles were sitting in the garden one day, and Charles said everything was extraordinarily beautiful except the support stakes, so George got this idea.”

  “It is . . .” Gunlaug paused to find the word and ended up using Norwegian. “. . . gratifying to me that you work in such a pleasant, cooperative household. Everyone here seems to enjoy their work.”

  “That is very true.” Nilda had not thought of it like that. Leave it to her mor to find another shining bright spot in her life.

  Gunlaug cupped another blossom in her hands. “Such beauty. And look at you. It seems you have adapted quite well.”

  Nilda pointed out another rosebush, this one with white roses brush-tipped in shades of red. “Isn’t that a beauty?” They wandered back to the kitchen garden plot behind the greenhouse.

  “Not a weed in sight. How does he do this?”