Reverend Moen’s sermon verse, “. . . and the truth shall set you free,” made her wince.
Caleb looked over at her, Henry sound asleep on his lap. Did he know? Did he suspect? The urge to tell someone her story ate at her for the rest of the week. Should she talk to Reverend Moen? She knew of his kind heart but he would have to abide by the Scriptures. Gudrun? Of any of her friends, she would be the one.
She finished the last stitch in the last Easter dress on Saturday morning, just after dawn lightened the eastern sky. While the sun was not yet up, she went to stand at her kitchen window to watch the band of soft silver deepen to gold and then flame into pinks and purples as the golden disc arched above the horizon. Perhaps they would have good weather for Easter. The thaw had been dripping off the icicles the last four days.
As on the other mornings, her prayer was the same. “Dear Lord, thank You for what You have given me and now, please show me what to do.” The plea had nothing to do with her day’s work. She set bread dough to rising, rolled out and baked a batch of sour cream cookies, and was well into scrubbing the kitchen floor when Sam and Henry snuck down the stairs.
“Breakfast will be ready as soon as I’m done here. Why don’t you let Sam out in the meantime and then go get dressed?” At his nod, she went back to her bucket of soapy water. By the time she’d mopped up the last brush of water, she could hear Angel begin to fuss in the cradle she’d moved into the other room. Sam yipped at the back door, Henry meandered back down the stairs, and Angel passed from fussing to demanding. Like the time and tides, babies waited for no one.
Several people dropped by that day with gifts of food or small household items, welcoming her to the community and making her feel a part of Soldahl. Each time the bell tinkled, Sam and Henry would run to the door to see who was there. Johanna knew they were waiting for Caleb. By the time dusk fell, she could feel her spirits falling along with it. Though it was hard to admit, she’d been looking forward to his visit as much as the two who now had their noses plastered against the front window.
“Supper’s ready,” she called.
Just as they sat down and had said grace, the doorbell chimed again. Sam took off, his toenails making him skid on the freshly waxed floor. When Henry started to follow, Johanna shook her head. “You sit here and eat while the food is hot.” She could tell from the dog’s yips who it was. Henry’s mouth turned down and he hung his head.
“Sorry I’m so late but the train didn’t get here on time.” While he spoke, he set a large square box down on the floor. Sam sniffed it and sat in front of the sheriff, like he was waiting for a description of the contents of the box. Henry turned in his chair and stared from the box to the sheriff’s face and back again.
“I know this is early but I wanted to give him something for Easter.” Caleb shrugged. “I know, I’m as bad as a kid, can’t wait to open boxes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is it all right—for him to have it now, I mean?”
Johanna nodded. What else could she do? The look on Henry’s face tore her heart out of her chest and plastered it on her sleeve. At her nod again, he darted across the room and placed his hands on the box. Looking up at the man above him, the boy needed no words to voice his plea.
“Here, you want me to help you?” At the boy’s nod, Caleb took a pocketknife from his pant’s pocket and cut the strings. With eyes as big as dinner plates, Henry pulled open the crossed sections of the box flaps and peered inside.
“Yes, that’s for you,” Caleb answered the unspoken question. “Go ahead, take it out.” He tipped the box over on its side to make it easier. Henry crawled halfway inside before backing out, his hand clamped around the handle of a red wagon with bright yellow wheels inside of black rims.
Johanna shot Caleb a look of combined joy and oh-you-shouldn’t-have-done-this.
Caleb raised a hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but every boy needs a red wagon. Just think, this summer he’ll be able to pull Angel around in it. Should keep them happy for hours while you sew away.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Not your place. The wagon is Henry’s and he’s more than thanked me already. Ain’t often in this world you can bring such a light of joy to a child’s face. I’d pay for that privilege many times over.” He folded the box closed. “You want I should put this down in the cellar?”
“No, leave it here.” She pointed to a corner. “He will have a wonderful time playing in that, along with the wagon.”
“Fine then, I’ll see you in the morning for church.”
Late that night Johanna finished stitching the lace trim to a bonnet for Angel to wear for Easter. She and Henry would make do with what they had. At the rate he was growing, what he had wouldn’t be worn for much longer. When they walked into the church in the morning, they had a hard time finding a place to sit. New bonnets crowned the women’s heads, leaving her feeling like a black sheep in a field of white ones. Dag finally saw them and beckoned them to the second pew. Walking with the sheriff up the center aisle, Johanna could feel eyes drilling into her back. Without turning, she could feel the whispers passed along behind gloved hands. If the residents of Soldahl hadn’t noticed the attention he paid to her before, they certainly did now.
She took her place next to Clara and sat Henry between her and Caleb.
“Christ is risen!” announced Reverend Moen.
“He is risen indeed!” responded the congregation. As the service continued with the reading of the women at the sepulcher, Johanna felt the tears gather as Mary pleaded with the man to tell her where they’d laid the body. She contemplated how much Christ had done for Mary and the others, and for her. How could she repay Him?
She knew the answer. By not living a lie. She quickly focused on the words of the Gospel and tried to ignore that silent voice for the rest of the service. It wasn’t fair. Was God asking this of her? To go back? To leave her new life? Surely He wouldn’t send her back.
After church those invited to the mansion for dinner boarded wagons and buggies, ducking under cover to keep the mist off them. While the sun had cracked the horizon, clouds had returned, but at least it was too warm to snow.
The long table held places for Caleb, Johanna, Reverend and Mrs. Moen, and Will Dunfey, Dag’s assistant. Another table was set for the Moen children and Henry.
“He’ll be fine with me,” Mary, the eldest daughter reassured Johanna. “Come on, Henry, we can have more fun in the kitchen.”
“No doubt,” Reverend Moen whispered.
“Will you say the grace, John?” Gudrun asked from her place at the foot of the table. Dag sat at the head with Clara on his right. When they bowed their heads in a moment of silence, Johanna heard the voice again. Surely if she told anyone, they would think her mad. She concentrated on the prayer and the voice faded.
Course followed course, with Mrs. Hanson carrying platters and bowls and encouraging everyone—“Eat up, there’s plenty more where this came from.”
“There certainly is, she’s been cooking and baking for three days.” Dag said when the cook left the room to bring in another steaming platter.
“Well, I for one don’t intend to let any of this go to waste.” Caleb passed the platter of sliced ham to Johanna. The conversation flowed along with the food. When Mrs. Hanson swung open the kitchen door, laughter could be heard from the children. John raised an eyebrow but settled back down at a head shake from Gudrun.
“They aren’t hurting anything and this old house needs the joy of children’s laughter.”
Johanna looked across the table at Clara, an eyebrow raised in question. A slight shake of the head and a quickly hidden smile said she hadn’t told the others yet. Sharing such a wonderful secret gave Johanna a warm glow around her heart. Never had she had friends like these. Would they still be her friends when she told them the whole story?
Later that evening when Caleb took her home, he stopped on the front porch.
“Would you like to come in?�
�
He shook his head. “I better not, but I have something important to ask you.”
She looked into his eyes, shaded by the dark and his hat’s wide brim. “Yes.”
He cleared his throat and sucked in a deep breath. “I . . . you . . . ah . . . I need your permission to court you and I certainly hope you feel the same.” The words came out in a rush.
Johanna felt her heart collapse at that moment.
Chapter 16
“What do you mean you don’t want to see me anymore?”
“Just that.” Johanna twisted her hands in knots.
Caleb stared at her, his heart about to leap from his chest. Had he misread all the signs? Surely he wouldn’t feel this way if he hadn’t felt she did too. All these years, he’d never even escorted anyone to church, or the socials or . . .
He slammed his fist against the doorjamb. Johanna jumped as if she’d been shot.
“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He stared at her, trying to read what was behind her face and in her heart.
She refused to meet his eyes.
“Johanna, I can’t believe you are talking like this.” He wanted to take her hands, enfold her in his arms, protect her from whatever monster was hiding inside.
“I’m sorry, Caleb, that’s just the way it has to be.” Her voice sounded lost.
Caleb looked around the shop, as if hoping a message might jump at him from the walls or the piles of material. The night before he had not pressed her for an answer. He’d just hightailed it off her porch as if his tail were on fire. Now as he glanced over at the curtained doorway to her workroom he could see Henry peeking through the crack. What a fool he had been. He knew loud voices scared the daylights out of the child and more than once he’d seen Johanna hide within herself when a man raised his voice. And here he’d done both.
“Good-bye, Caleb.” She turned and, shoulders squared beneath her dark dress, pushed through the curtain.
He could hear her comforting Henry in a gentle voice.
Caleb crammed his hat back on his head and gave the door a satisfying slam. Halfway to the street, he turned right and headed west to the main part of town, his boots kicking up slush in his long strides. For his own benefit he recited in his head a litany of names that applied to one Caleb Stenesrude.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” someone called.
He heard but pounded on. He could feel curious eyes drilling into his back but his stride never shortened. By the time he’d reached the Erickson’s driveway, his chest pumped like a bellows and sweat slimed his hat band. He’d covered over three miles.
The sun beat down on his shoulders yet he could feel the ice creeping over his heart. “Dear God, why?” He looked toward the heavens. “Why?” This time a dog barked, the sound carrying over a still-snowbound prairie.
“I prayed over this, thought I was doing what You wanted.” He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and unbuttoned his sheepskin jacket. Between the sun and the hard walk he no longer needed that. He shook his head and snorted. “No fool like an old fool.” He turned around and started back. The way he had stormed around, probably half the town was talking about him now.
When he reached the wrought-iron fence surrounding the Norgaard mansion—no one called it the Weinlander house even though all knew Dag owned it now—he paused. Perhaps Gudrun knew what was keeping Johanna from him. For certain she’d heard about his rampage through the streets of Soldahl.
Here, like some lovesick bull, he’d been thinking this might be one of the happiest days of his life. Women! He punched the doorbell with unnecessary force.
“Why, Caleb, what a nice surprise, we haven’t seen so much of you lately.” Clara smiled up at him, the twinkle in her eye going along with her teasing. “Come on in.” She stepped back and beckoned him inside.
Caleb removed his Stetson and held it in front of him with both hands. Now that he was actually here, he wanted to be anywhere else. “Is Gudrun in?”
“Of course, she’s in her office.” Her look this time reminded him of his mother. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “You might want to join us. She might have let you in on her secret.”
Clara turned her head a bit. “She?” She studied Caleb briefly. “I’ll go ask Mrs. Hanson to bring in some coffee. You go right on.” She turned toward the kitchen. “You might want to tap on the door before you go in.”
Caleb watched her dart down the hall. How in the world did I let myself in for this? He added a few more names to those he’d already called himself and made his way through the parlor and down the hall to the office. He looked down to realize he still wore his sheepskin jacket and hadn’t even hung his hat on the hall tree. Not a good sign, son. Why don’t you just hightail it home and go chop wood or something?
But instead, he tapped on the carved walnut door.
“Come in.”
Once before he’d felt just this way—the time he was summoned to the principal’s office at the high school.
“Caleb, what a nice surprise.” Gudrun stuck her pen back in the ink stand. “Sit down, sit down.” She stood and came around the desk. “Let’s sit in front of the fire, if you would be so kind as to stoke it up.” All the while she spoke, she watched his face.
Once he’d put another log on, he took the wingback chair opposite hers.
“Now, tell me what’s wrong”
“Can’t one friend call on another without anything being wrong?” He settled his hat on his knee and studied the fire now beginning to blaze again. He sighed and slumped against the leather upholstered back.
When he finally looked up at Gudrun, her gaze met his with compassion.
“Mrs. Hanson will bring the coffee in a few minutes.” Clara said after tapping at the door and entering.
Gudrun looked at Caleb with a question.
“It’s all right. I asked Clara to join us.” He traced the rim of the crown of his hat with one finger. “You see . . . I . . . ah . . . no, this isn’t working.” He clapped his hands on the chair arms and started to rise.
“Sit, Caleb.”
Steel with a velvet covering. He now knew what that meant. He sat.
Clara pulled up a chair and took her place.
He caught a look that passed between them, a look of question and concern all wrapped up together. He sucked in a deep breath and let the words out in a whoosh. “Do you know any reason why Johanna would not want me to court her?”
“Oh, no, I was afraid of that.”
He stared at the older woman, willing her to go on.
She shook her head and looked at Clara who did the same. “She’s never confided in me,” Gudrun began, “but I know there is something in her past that she keeps carefully hidden. I have an idea what it is but that is all.” She stared into the fire. “We’ve all noticed how she mentions nothing about her life before you found her at your gate. That is strange in itself. But I’ve also seen her flinch or duck away when a man raises his voice or moves too quickly.”
“I know, I’ve seen that too. You think she’s running from a wife-beating husband? What with Henry being so scared and all?”
“I can’t see her committing some crime, not Johanna. She’s as honest as the day is long.” Clara tapped her fingers together.
“But she was definitely on the run. I was surprised when she agreed to buy the dress shop.” Gudrun looked up at the tap on the door. “Come in.”
After Mrs. Hanson fussed with the coffee tray and left, she continued. “What happened today?”
“I . . . well, you know I’ve not been hiding my interest in her. Why those two tykes of hers are dear to me as my own. That Angel could make the devil himself smile.”
“Let alone our dear sheriff.” Clara handed the coffee cups around.
“Yeah, well, be that as it may, today I asked her if I could come courting. I thought I ought to make sure she knew my intentions were honorable.”
“Of course.” Gu
drun sipped her coffee.
“She turned me down flat, said she didn’t think she should see me anymore. Can you beat that?” He could feel his heart start thumping against his ribs again at the memory. “So I thought to ask you if you knew any reason for such a thing.”
“I’m glad you did. I think it’s time we got to the bottom of this—for both your sakes. Living a lie will eat away at one ‘til there’s nothing left.”
“There’s something going on for sure,” Clara added. “I’ve seen her look at you when you weren’t paying attention. That wasn’t the look of someone who didn’t care, even Dag noticed.”
Caleb leaned back in his chair. So he wasn’t nuts, he hadn’t been misreading the woman.
Gudrun set her cup and saucer down with a click. “So the question is, what can we do?”
Caleb nearly smiled at the mention of “we.” That was one thing about Gudrun, she didn’t let any grass grow under her feet. When something needed doing, no matter how hard or distasteful, she got right to it. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Caleb stood and took up the poker, moving the logs around whether they needed it or not. He set the brass screen back in place to protect the fading oriental rug and returned to his seat, only to get back up and lean against the mantel.
He crossed to the table where the tray sat and poured himself another cup of coffee. He crossed to the table again and picked a cookie off the plate. About ready to reach for the poker again, he ordered himself back to the chair.
“That’s better. You’re acting like a cat on a hot stove.” Gudrun’s smile took any sting out of her words. She nodded. “Guess it’s about time I go over and order a new summer dress from Johanna. That ought to give us a splendid opportunity to talk, don’t you think?” She looked up at Clara who nodded and smiled widely.
“And if need be, I’ll order one too. In fact, she knows I need several new things.”
“I’ll ask Dag to send Will over to drive the carriage tomorrow, or the sleigh, whichever. I haven’t been shopping in quite some time. What do you think, Clara, do I need a new hat too?”
Dakota December and Dakota Destiny Page 12