Johanna sipped her tea, wishing she could be in the other rooms, going through all the drawers from the smallest that might hold buttons to the large bins for fabric bolts. She wanted to touch each bolt of fabric and run her fingers over the feather boa draped over the dressmaker’s form in the corner.
The bell tinkled out in the shop.
“I’ll be right back. Probably someone to pick up their order.” Miss Sharon bounced to her feet and out the door.
“Oh, the look on your face.” Clara leaned forward so she could talk softly.
“Am I so obvious?” Johanna shook her head. “She is amazing.”
“That she is and in a hurry to leave for Montana. You could finish all those dresses as well as she can.”
Johanna sighed and shook her head. “Clara, I know you have a heart of gold but I cannot afford a place like this, all the lovely materials and such. And the banker here, he doesn’t know me from Eve to give me a loan and . . .”
“Just you leave those worries up to Gudrun. She still owns that bank and . . .”
“Gudrun owns the bank?”
“Ja, didn’t you know? When her husband died, she kept the controlling ownership and the manager, Mr. Hopstead, owns the rest. She thought that way he would be more inclined to manage it well. Not that he wouldn’t anyway, you understand, but he’d been Horace’s second in command and it just seemed fitting.”
Johanna sank against the back of the chair. “No wonder she knows so much of what goes on around here.”
“She knows a lot more than she ever lets on or shares with the rest of us. When someone confides in Gudrun Norgaard, you know your secret is safe with her. Your business will never be discussed over the back fences like some others I know.” Clara bobbed her head for emphasis.
“There now, where were we?” Miss Sharon set the curtains to flapping on her way back in.
“I think we would like you to show us around a bit more, there are bedrooms upstairs, is that right?”
“And a bit of a barn out back. I used to keep a horse but finally decided I didn’t need one. Everyone comes to me if they need sewing done.” She crossed to a door to the back. “Here, I’ll show you the pantry first.”
Dusk shadowed the land by the time the two women walked up the street to the Norgaard mansion. A gas lamp outside the front door welcomed them home and the smell of supper cooking greeted their entry. Henry threw himself against his mother’s skirts.
“Here, let me take off my coat first.” Johanna patted his shoulder and cupped his cheeks in her hands. “What’s this I see, I think someone had a cup of cocoa.” He tried to lick the evidence off, the tip of his tongue doing its best. Johanna took his hand after hanging up her outer things. “Come, let’s go wash you up and then I think I hear Angel crying. Has she been good? Have you?”
He nodded and tugged on her hand. In the kitchen Mrs. Norgaard sat in the rocking chair by the newly blackened stove and held the baby flat on her back resting on her knees between the woman’s two arms. Angel appeared to be hanging on every word the old woman whispered and sang.
Johanna stopped in the doorway to better appreciate the scene until Angel tightened her face and whimpered. Her mother knew that whimper would soon turn to a squall if not interrupted quickly. “Here, I will take her. Thank you for watching her.”
“So long it has been since these old arms held such a beautiful infant as Angel.” Gudrun handed up the baby with a sigh. “It seems like a lifetime ago since my Harold was that size, if he ever were.”
Johanna paused. For some reason she’d thought Mrs. Norgaard had never had children.
“Yes, he died of the influenza the year he was three and the good Lord never saw fit to bless us with another.” A shadow hovered in her faded blue eyes. “I still sometimes wonder why.”
“That’s so’s you’d have time for all the other children you’ve helped and the families who bless you every night for one good thing or another. You treat the whole town of Soldahl as your family—and half the countryside.” Mrs. Hanson leaned over to check the chicken she had roasting in the oven. Her face flamed red from the heat of the open door.
“Ja, that is true.” Clara joined them, a sheaf of papers in one hand. “Here are the papers you wanted from Miss Sharon. She said she knew a buyer would want them so she had them all ready.” Clara handed them to Gudrun with a smile. “I think you’ll be pleased. I know we were quite taken with the shop, weren’t we, Johanna?”
Angel’s fussing was escalating with each passing minute. Though her mother tried soothing her, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Angel would have none of it.
“I need to go feed her, then we can talk.” She fled up the stairs to the nursery and settled into the rocking chair. Once the baby was happily nursing, she let her mind roam back to what she had seen. The well-stocked shop, the house just big enough for her and her children, a fenced backyard for them to play in, even a tree where she could hang a swing. There was a pasture for the horse and a cow, if she should want one. Miss Sharon had talked about the garden plot buried under the snow and the lilacs bordering the fence.
The desire to make a home in this place filled her, and her heart ached with longing. Never in her entire life had she felt such peace as within the walls of this house and she knew she could carry that feeling over to Miss Sharon’s shop. Couldn’t she? Could she leave her other life behind forever, could she close the door on the senseless brutality? To those who asked, couldn’t she say she was a widow? Perhaps Mr. Carlson died in the blizzard or of an illness, an accident? So often she’d wished him dead.
Was it so wrong to want a new life? To provide a safe home for her children?
She stroked Angel’s rounded cheek. “Oh, child, you have no idea what your life could have been. Do I dare stop here? Will we be safe? Can I—we—live a lie?”
She ignored the voice of her conscience whispering in her ear and, after rocking Angel to sleep, she lay the baby in the cradle and made her way back down the stairs. She could hear people talking in the parlor so she turned in through the double doors and paused.
Caleb and Dag were leaning against the fireplace mantel, deep in a discussion over something upon which they did not agree. They were enjoying every moment of the argument. Caleb pounded one fist in the palm of the other hand for emphasis. Dag threw back his head, laughing and shaking his head at the same time.
Sitting close together on the horsehair sofa, Mrs. Norgaard and Clara had their heads together over some papers in the lamplight.
Mrs. Hanson nodded to Johanna as she brought in a tray with cups of coffee. “Supper will be ready in a few minutes but I thought you might like these for starters.” She set the tray down on the coffee table and picked up a plate of melted cheese on tiny squares of toasted bread and began passing it around.
Caleb saw Johanna when he turned to accept one of the appetizers. The smile that broke over his face made her heart leap in response. As he crossed the room to her, she had to smile back, it was only polite after all, and besides, her face refused to do anything else.
“How is our Angel today?” Such a simple question and he asked it every time they met.
“Sleeping now but she’ll be awake again after supper.” Perhaps he really did come only to see the children.
“Good, good.”
When had he taken her hand? How could the warmth of one man’s hand signify peace and another’s spell only hate? Or rage. She shivered at the thought.
“Can I get you a shawl or something? Surely there is a draft here, come over by the fire.”
When she tried to withdraw her hand, he tugged it instead and led her toward the fire. “No, no, I am fine.”
Dag obligingly moved over. “Here, I am sorry for hogging the warmth. You’d think I’d get my fill of fire with the forge and all but on a cold night like tonight, nothing feels better than a crackling fireplace, even though the furnace heats the house.”
Johanna took the place they
offered her, right in the middle. The two tall and broad-shouldered men made her feel tiny—and safe. She took the coffee cup Caleb handed her and sipped, closing her eyes in bliss. With the fire warming her back and the coffee her insides, she still felt his undeniable warmth even though they were not close enough to be touching. At the mention of Miss Sharon, Johanna rejoined the conversation.
“The shop appears to be financially stable, with sufficient inventory and fairly low overhead,” Mrs. Norgaard was saying. “I’d be sorry for Soldahl to lose a business such as this. Our women need nice things without having to go to Fargo or Grand Forks.”
“What’s wrong with the Sears and Roebuck Catalogue?” Caleb pointed to his shirt. “Seems good enough to me, I wear their clothes all the time.”
“So do a lot of other people and not only clothes but household goods and even farm machinery. They are providing a fine service, but . . .” Gudrun looked over her glasses. “If we all bought from the catalogue, we wouldn’t need any businesses in Soldahl. All we’d have would be a post office, a train station, and a grain elevator.” Her tart reply made the men chuckle.
“And a bank?” Caleb winked at Johanna.
The teasing and laughter between these good friends still seemed strange to her. There had been so little levity in her life. She had yet to join in; she could never think of anything to say.
“Now the saloon, that is what really draws the farmers and the ranchers in. We couldn’t do without a saloon.”
“I suppose you’d like for Johanna to open one of those?” Eyes flashed behind the glasses.
“No, no, just stating a fact.” Caleb raised his hands in mock surrender. “You are right, the dressmaking shop is important to the well-being of the residents of Soldahl and the surrounding countryside.”
“Quit your funnin’ and come and eat.” Mrs. Hanson ordered from the doorway. “Henry and I be waiting for you.”
Guilt that she’d left her son to the good graces of Mrs. Hanson made Johanna take a step forward. She should have been in the kitchen helping prepare the meal instead of lazing around in the parlor. What was the matter with her, getting ahead of her station like that? The thought plagued her, easily shattering the sense of peace she’d been harboring. She set her empty coffee cup on the tray, but before she could pick it up, Caleb beat her to it.
“I’ll just take this back to the kitchen and join you in the dining room.”
Once again he caught her off guard. Being taken care of like this could become a habit. Would it be possible for her and the sheriff to remain friends? She’d heard stories of men leaving their families behind and starting new lives in the West. Could she do it too?
But, Johanna, a voice seemed to whisper in her ear, all your life you’ve told the truth. Can you live a lie now?
I already am, she thought. Surely one more won’t make any difference.
Chapter 14
“So, do you think you would like to own the dressmaking shop?”
Johanna stared across the desk to the woman sitting erectly in the chair behind it. Gudrun clasped her hands on the blotter in front of her and looked over the rim of her glasses. The silence of the office felt as thick as before a thunderstorm, yet the twinkle in the faded eyes promised the freshness of spring rain.
“I—I . . .” Johanna blinked and started again. “You know I would like to, that isn’t the problem. I have no, or rather, so little money.” She’d earned a few dollars sewing for others. Shaking her head, she continued. “And I have nothing to barter.”
“You have yourself and the skill of your mind and hands. I have watched you as you deal with others and you deal fairly, you understand how to set a price for your work. In my mind those are the attributes of a good businesswoman. The bank is willing to loan you the money based on those things. Those and the fact that the shop itself has made money in the past and is filling a need in the community.”
“The bank or you?”
“The bank, on my recommendation.” Gudrun leaned forward. “You want a new life, why not here where you already have friends to help you get started?”
Johanna closed her eyes and sighed. Is this what I am supposed to do? Dear God, I’ve been asking for an answer, is this it? “Why not? You are right but I feel like I’m standing on a high cliff and about to jump off.”
“Just so you don’t feel like someone is pushing you off. I am so certain I am right that at times I get a bit heavy-handed, at least that’s what some of my friends tell me.” The twinkle brightened. “That is a failing of mine for which I’ve had to ask forgiveness more than once. But in your case, I feel so strongly this is the right move, that the shop will be good for you and you for it, that I can’t help but push. Your buying it will make everyone happy, including Miss Sharon and her George. What a wedding gift we are giving them. They’ll be able to leave sooner than they had hoped.”
Johanna let the words roll over her. She heard them, but for the life of her, she couldn’t respond. She, Mrs. Raymond Carlson, Johanna, would own a dressmaking shop in the town of Soldahl, North Dakota. She would live there in that lovely little house with her two children and people would come to her to order their dresses and fine linens. And hats too, she added as an afterthought. She’d never made a real hat, only those she knit. But I can do it, I know I can.
With each thought she could feel her spine straightening and her shoulders squaring. I will sign the papers Mrs. Johanna Carlson and that will be the end of that. The day she signed the papers would be the day for her new life to begin. Not that it hadn’t already but that would make it official.
“When will we—what is the next step?”
“If you are in agreement, as soon as a contract is ready, we will meet with Hopstead so you can sign it. The wedding is on Saturday and Miss Sharon said she could be moved out by Sunday. You will have to get together with her so she can show you where everything is. I think she would like to leave much of her furniture so she doesn’t have to pay to ship it to Montana but that is something you can discuss with her.”
Johanna could feel her hands begin to shake so she clenched them into fists and buried them in her lap. Soon even her lips were shaking. Surely Mrs. Norgaard could hear her heels clicking on the floor. What in the world was she doing? Borrowing such an enormous amount of money from a bank and from a friend and thinking she could have a business of her own? What in the world possessed her to think she could do such a thing? What would Raymond say, that is, providing he ever found out? And her mother and father, why they would roll over in their graves.
You’re afraid, a little voice whispered in her ear. Scared spitless, she wanted to scream back. And with just cause.
“You know, my dear, my husband, God rest his soul, used to say that when you had God as a partner, you didn’t need to be afraid or worried because you had the best partner possible. I think that applies to all areas of our lives, both business and everyday living. It sure has helped me through many decisions. I always pray, knowing God will answer.”
“Thank you, I’ll remember that.” Johanna got to her feet. “I think I better go check on Angel and I have some mending to do for a lady. Thank you for all you have done for us. God surely counts on you as one of His servants.” She darted from the room before the moisture welling up overcame her parched throat and spilled out her eyes.
“We found your wagon,” Caleb said a couple of nights later when he’d come for supper. “You’d gotten way off the road and down in a low spot. The drifts just covered it over until this bit of a thaw.” He shook his head. “Thank God you had the presence of mind to get on the horse and let him bring you in.”
Johanna nodded. She thanked God every day for the miracle of their rescue. “Thank you, Sheriff.” Henry tugged at her sleeve and pointed to Sam. The dog wagged his tail. “I know we have Sam to thank too.” She put both hands around the dog’s face and looked directly into his eyes. “Sam, you are the best dog in the whole world.” Stroking his soft head, she wond
ered what would happen to Henry when Sam returned to his own house. Surely the sheriff didn’t intend to give up his dog forever. So many things to think about.
“Thought I’d take your horse out tomorrow and drag the wagon free and bring it in.”
“You need some help?” Dag asked.
“Yup, could use some.” He looked over at Johanna with a smile deepening the creases at the outside of his eyes. “We’ll put it in the lean-to of the barn at your house. I already took some hay over there and a sack of grain for your horse. If you want you can buy milk from the Ericksons, on the next block and one house in. Their cow freshened so they have plenty, and they usually sell a few eggs too. I’d bring some in for you but my hens quit laying about the time that you arrived. They didn’t like that blizzard any better’n the rest of us.”
“Thank you.” Johanna’s thoughts flew to the boxes of dishes and pans, sheets, and quilts Mrs. Hanson and Gudrun had been packing for her. They said it was all stuff no longer used in the big house but to Johanna it was riches unheard of.
Three more days and she could build a fire in her own cookstove, tuck Henry into what would be his own bed, and work as late into the evening as she desired. She would pay the mortgage off long before its time if there were any way humanly possible.
The whole town turned out for the wedding and to send the bride and groom on their way. After the service, they greeted everyone, cut the cake, and ran for the train.
“I’m so glad you came to take over for me,” Miss Sharon, now Mrs. Drummond, called to Johanna from the steps of the train. “Thank you, thank you everyone.” She waved again as the “All aboard” echoed down the track.
“So, would you like us to help you move in now?” Caleb stood at Johanna’s shoulder, Henry between them.
“Really?” Johanna fingered the keys given her just before the bridal couple boarded the train. She’d never had keys to anything, let alone a house and shop.
Dakota December and Dakota Destiny Page 10