A Song of Joy

by Lauraine Snelling

  Nilda reached over and covered her employer’s hands. “Would you rather not go to this tea? I can go alone and make your apologies.”

  Mrs. Schoenleber forced a smile to her lips and patted Nilda’s hand. “No, I will attend. I promised myself and Jane that I would no longer dwell on the past, on what might have been. God has given me many years now, and then you and your family, to make a difference in people’s lives. I believe I am where He wants me, and He has impressed upon me that with wealth comes not only possibilities but responsibilities to use the money wisely and for His glory. And you will help me do that.”

  “Would you like me to go around the block again?” George asked.

  “Thank you, George, but no. And, by the way, I did realize what you were doing.”

  “As you say, madam.” He touched the brim of his hat.

  “Help me down first, and then I will hold the flowers.” Mrs. Schoenleber made sure she had her reticule over her arm and stepped regally down to the graveled drive. “Two hours, unless I call to make it earlier.”

  “Yes, madam, I will be here. Do you have any errands to run in the meantime?”

  “Ask Cook. Oh, and there is mail to send out.”

  George handed Mrs. Schoenleber the flowers and helped Nilda down. “Just be your sweet self, and they will be smitten.”

  “Thank you. How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “Good guess.”

  She shook her head and took the flowers back. “Onward.” Pasting a smile on her face, she joined Mrs. Schoenleber and walked to the door, where a maid ushered them in. Stuffy air met them at the door.

  “Madam is in the parlor.”

  “Looks like outside is not an option,” Nilda whispered as the maid walked ahead to announce them.

  “More’s the pity. Good thing we brought our fans.”

  “Gertrude, so good to see you. And Miss Carlson.” Mrs. Amundson held out her hand to greet them without rising, which made Nilda wonder if she was ill. She motioned to the young women sitting on the sofa. “You know my daughter, Olivia.”

  Nilda handed her the flowers. “It’s good to see you again. I’m happy to know you are joining us on Saturday.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Olivia had the worn look of a daughter who was at her mother’s beck and call.

  Mrs. Amundson continued the introductions. “And my niece, Lucinda, who is visiting us for part of the summer before she joins her family in France.”

  Nilda nodded. “Glad to meet you, Lucinda. I hope you aren’t too bored with a stay in our little town.”

  “Oh, I am pleased to be here and not in the heat and humidity of the Cities. Aunt Bernice is most gracious. The last time I was here, Olivia and I managed to get into a few scrapes, but they let me return.”

  Curiosity dug in, like a gopher burrowing a hole. Now that, Nilda would like to hear about. “Well, welcome to Blackduck. I have some ideas of things you can do while you’re here.”

  They sat down at Mrs. Amundson’s request. Nilda followed Mrs. Schoenleber’s actions and opened the fan dangling from a ribbon on her wrist. Why weren’t the windows open, at least? Surely there was a cross breeze to help alleviate the humidity. She glanced up. There was a ceiling fan, but where was the switch? How did one tactfully ask if they may turn on the fan? She could feel a drop of sweat trickling down her spine.

  “How long have you been in this country?” Lucinda asked.

  “Just over a year. How time flies.”

  “Did you speak English while you lived in . . . Norway, wasn’t it?” Lucinda looked to her aunt, who nodded.

  “No. My older brother kept writing and telling us to learn English, so we found a man who emigrated but then returned to Norway. Now, of course, I wish I had worked harder at it, but thanks to the accelerated teaching I have had with Miss Walstead after beginning with Mr. Larsson in Benson’s Corner, I am adequate now.”

  Lucinda replied, “I started learning French when my mother would take us back there to visit her family.”

  “You are fortunate. I’ve heard that children learn much faster than adults. I’m convinced now that being put in a position where one is not allowed to use their mother tongue but only the new language is the fastest way to learn.” She smiled at Mrs. Schoenleber.

  “That is what I made her do in order to work for me,” Mrs. Schoenleber explained.

  Lucinda nodded.

  “I would say you are more than adequate,” Olivia chimed in. “At the socials, I had no idea you had not been here for years and years.” She turned to Lucinda. “We will attend the next one on Saturday. You will meet many new friends there.”

  “I hear there is a handsome young man attending too,” Lucinda said, her eyes twinkling.

  “Actually, several.” Nilda leaned forward a bit, the better to let what air there was cool her. “They have to pass a handsome test in order to be invited.” Now, where had that come from?

  Both Olivia and Lucinda giggled and then broke into laughter. The proverbial ice melted, and Nilda felt herself relax. Perhaps this tea wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

  The tea was served in the dining room, and after fixing her plate and cup, she asked, “Wouldn’t it be cooler outside on your verandah?”

  “Well, I suppose it might,” Olivia replied. She pushed open the door, and sure enough, there was shade on their table and chairs. “Mother doesn’t like the bugs.” But the three girls seated themselves and enjoyed the repast, all the while getting to know each other better.

  “Have you heard about the group that recently formed called the YLB?” Nilda asked.

  Olivia nodded slowly. “I think so. Young Ladies of Blackduck, right?”

  “Yes, they formed to start a true library here in Blackduck. They began with a lending library that sends out a box of books to different towns that request them. I think that is what gave them the idea. I thought it might be a good place to make some friends and help the community at the same time.”

  “Are you going to take part, Nilda?”

  “I don’t know. I’m working on getting libraries, or at least shelves of books, in the local schools.”

  “Is this related to that Andrew Carnegie who builds libraries in different towns? I’ve been to one in Minneapolis. Anyone can go there and check out books.” Lucinda helped herself to another triangular open-faced sandwich. “These are really good.”

  “There is one in Bemidji, right near the lake.” Olivia added, “I think I will talk with the woman in charge. There was an article in the newspaper about the YLB. Thank you, Nilda.”

  Nilda nodded. “How long will you be staying here, Lucinda?”

  “At least three weeks.”

  “But we might be able to keep her longer.” Olivia crumbled a cookie on her plate. “Do you know if Petter will be there? He was seeing June until her family moved away earlier this month.”

  “Oh, I thought that was becoming serious.” Nilda turned to Lucinda. “I met Petter on the ship from New York to Duluth when my brother Ivar and I came to America. We became good friends. He works at the lumberyard and came out to our farm to help us build a new house. He and a whole lot of people from around Benson’s Corner.”

  “People still really do that? I read in a history book about barn raisings.”

  Nilda nodded. “That’s how we got to know our neighbors.”

  “You mean people you didn’t even know came to help?”

  “We were surprised too.”

  Mrs. Schoenleber came to the door. “Nilda, George is here.”

  “Thank you.” Nilda stood. “I need to go, but I will see you both on Saturday? Dress casually, as we’ll be playing croquet and badminton outside. And if you find out anything about the YLB, tell us all at the social.”

  Olivia nodded and stood. “This has been delightful. Thank you for coming.”

  They said their good-byes, and Nilda and Mrs. Schoenleber adjourned to the buggy. Once they were settled, Mrs. Schoenleber smiled at Nild
a. “It sounded to me like you young ladies hit it off well.”

  “We did, to my surprise. Olivia seemed a whole different woman than she is at the socials. I wonder why. How did you get on with Mrs. Amundson?”

  “I would have much preferred being out with you girls.”

  “That bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right. We did our social obligation, and I learned that Olivia is her youngest child. There were four children, but one died in infancy and one simply left home. Her eldest, a son who is married and lives in Chicago, has three children, but she never sees him, hardly hears from him, and so all her focus is on finding a good husband for Olivia. Preferably a wealthy husband, as you can guess.”

  “Well, I think Olivia wants to do something besides be with her mother. She asked about Petter and said that the young woman he was interested in has moved away. I think Olivia would like to take her place.”

  “I see. And Lucinda?”

  “She goes to the library in Minneapolis. Something makes me think her mother might be on the library board or some such. What do you know about the Carnegie libraries?”

  “I know Blackduck is too small for one. There is one in Bemidji, but I have never been there.”

  “This makes me believe we are really on the right track. I don’t know if the YLB plan to carry books for children in their library too. If they do, perhaps we could donate some boxes there as well.”

  “Perhaps we could.”

  “I’ve been thinking.” Nilda looked up to see a smile on Mrs. Schoenleber’s face. “What?”

  “I’ve been thinking too. Jane and I are so proud of you. God sent me a great gift when you spent the night in my house on your way to your relatives’ farm.” She paused. “Now, what were you thinking?”

  “Back to the immigrant question, learning to speak English is vitally important. What if Jane were to teach English to the immigrants here in Blackduck? I would be glad to help her.”

  “I like that. Go ahead and ask her.”

  “Something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “That Detective Galt. Is there any way we can make sure he does not return? He makes me feel dirty. Dreng was bad enough, and now this.”

  “Sometimes, Nilda, we bear burdens that cannot be lifted.”

  Chapter

  18

  No, I won’t pick one.”

  Nilda tried to look stern but knew she’d failed when Mr. Haglund laughed and shook his head again. “You have to choose.”

  They had finished supper in Mrs. Schoenleber’s main dining room, the table was cleared, and now the schematics for several different house plans were spread out and weighted at the corners so that the table looked like it was covered with a new kind of cloth.

  Nilda had studied the plans and asked plenty of questions, to which Thor often said, “These are general ideas. Things can still be changed.”

  “Do they all have to be alike?” she asked. “Why can’t we do some of each?”

  “Why not?”

  “I wish we could put indoor plumbing in them. I’ve gotten spoiled living here. Going back to having an outhouse would be hard, especially in the winter.” She studied the drawings, trying to picture families living there. Each house consisted of a large room that included the kitchen, then two bedrooms off of it. A cooking range would provide the heat. Two windows in the front wall, one in each bedroom, one in the kitchen. “They will be wired for electricity?”

  “Yes, and will have free power until the lumber season is finished and the men get paid. That will be Beltrami Lights and Telephone’s contribution.”

  “Then the big difference is that some will have an open loft. Actually, they could all have that, so older children could sleep up there.”

  “True.”

  “Some have a larger front porch and some a larger back porch, but both could be the same size too.”

  “I have eight men who could be ready to start clearing the house sites tomorrow, but the surveyors are not finished yet.”

  “And you think it will take how long to get ready to start on the first one?”

  “Probably a week to get two plots cleared and supplies delivered. I’m sure once the word gets out, I will have more volunteers than I know what to do with. I’m thinking we can raise two at a time; that would be four men on each house.”

  “And if you had more men who wanted to work? Or volunteers who just want to help?”

  “I figured we would clear four house sites, start building two. Others could then clear more sites, so they are always two ahead of the building crew. The surveyors will leave stakes for markers, and we can string line from one to the other. I’ll get those houses built, but you’ll need to find the money to pay for the materials. I will put pressure on those I know well, but we will not build more than the first four houses until they are paid for. Mathew and I agreed on that.”

  Nilda nodded. “I understand, and I am impressed. What kind of agreement are you setting up with the men working with you?”

  “Mathew and I talked about that. One plan is to keep track of the hours they work, decide on a wage, then put that total against either the rent of the house or the purchase of it. After we finish the first couple of houses, we’ll know the exact costs.”

  “I see. So who will be the bookkeeper?”

  “I don’t have the answer to that yet. But at the end of the day, we can write down how many hours each man worked.”

  “Basically, these men will be working for the future, but they have to eat and have a place to sleep each night.” Nilda looked at him.

  Mrs. Schoenleber broke her long silence. “I will take care of providing one meal, and Isabella Schwartz will provide a meal. And her barn, as we discussed. Has she said anything since that meeting?”

  Mr. Haglund smiled at her. “Very little, other than complaining to Mathew, but she can be convinced. Perhaps a box lunch at noon would not deplete her accounts too much.”

  Nilda almost giggled.

  Mr. Haglund did indeed seem ten years younger. He almost bounced with enthusiasm. “We’ll be working dawn to dark with the goal of moving some of the families with children in before school starts. As soon as the first two houses are roofed, the men could sleep on the floors there.”

  Nilda nodded. “And move to the next houses as needed.”

  She fell asleep that night with numbers running through her head and wondering how she could get the folks of Blackduck to agree to support the program.

  She woke up knowing that the first thing she needed was the total cost of materials for each house, down to the nails and the screws. The big question was how this was benefiting Blackduck, other than as an altruistic gesture. Right now, canning string beans sounded a lot easier than what she was trying to do.

  That thought made her want to go back to the farm. The work was hard there, but the reward of having food through the winter was sufficient. As families moved into these houses, how were they going to pay for food? The men would be fed in the logging camps, but the women and children needed to eat here, have wood for their fires, and warm clothing.

  She brought her questions up at the breakfast table.

  Mrs. Schoenleber nodded. “As to food, I can talk with Homer and tell him to run a tab for each family, and if any renege on their bill, I will pay it. That takes the financial pressure off him.”

  Nilda frowned. “Who is Homer? Have I met him?”

  “Homer Blanding owns the largest grocery store in town, the one that’s open all year. I don’t believe you’ve met him yet, but you will.”

  Yet another important local personage. Did Mrs. Schoenleber know every single businessman in Blackduck? It was beginning to look that way.

  Nilda mused, “There are plenty of downed trees to be cut up where they have been cleared, but how to get firewood to their houses? That wood will still be wet this winter.”

  “Wet?” Mrs. Schoenleber frowned.<
br />
  “Still green with a lot of moisture. Wet wood does not give off as much heat as dry, seasoned wood.”

  Mrs. Schoenleber stared at Nilda, a slight smile playing about her mouth. “Most young women your age would not come up with these things. I think we are all learning how brilliant you really are.”

  “That’s not brilliant. We had to make do with so little all our lives in Norway that we learned to stretch every penny until it screamed, and then stretch it more. Here on Uncle’s farm, we had real meat and food all winter, not just porridge—and if the winter in Norway was brutal, some porridges were weaker than others. I know what it is like to go to bed hungry and wake up still hungrier. Mor and Far did their very best, working at anything they could set their hands to in the hopes of bringing in a few kroner.” She paused and sucked in a breath. “And I never want to do that again! Now I have an opportunity to help keep it from happening to people who come here for work. A roof over their heads, food for their bellies, and clothing warm enough to get through a Minnesota winter.”

  Mrs. Schoenleber was studying her. “I am beginning to see a side of you, and of all of your family, that I had not realized. Fascinating.”

  “The first year my family was here, Knute put snares out for rabbits. They ate a lot of rabbit, Signe said. Bjorn shot a couple deer and some ducks and geese. He loves to hunt. Knute would go fishing, another way to help feed the family. On a farm, you have milk from the cow and eggs from the chickens, but then you need feed for them too. The boys, even Leif, work hard, and they do it willingly, because they know what it’s like to lack food.”

  “I know too. I grew up on a farm until my father started making money by cutting railroad ties. The railroads were moving west. New lines were starting and old lines consolidating. It was a booming market for railroad ties. He knew not only how to make money but how to use that money to make more. He built a company earning millions and passed that on to my brothers and me. We have helped it grow beyond his wildest imagination. But he also knew the importance of investing part of that money into people who need some assistance. He so believed the Lord’s command to love your neighbor as yourself. That is what I grew up on.”