Dakota December and Dakota Destiny

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I think Mrs. Johanna Carlson doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Chapter 17

  Johanna rubbed her forehead with weary fingers. Why do I feel so empty? I did the right thing, I know I did. She bent over her sewing machine, blinking to clear her eyes. Was she coming down with a cold? She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. After finishing the final seam in the skirt she was constructing, she tied off the threads and folded the waistless garment. Rubbing her aching back with one hand, she got to her feet and shoved the chair closer to the treadle machine. She should have gone to bed far earlier but the orders had stacked up and she needed the money. The first payment on her house was due soon.

  She shut off the lamps and climbed the stairs to her bedroom, a kerosene lamp in hand. She checked on Henry, sound asleep with Sam lying right beside him. He wagged his tail when she patted his head.

  Next, she held the light over Angel’s cradle, also soundly sleeping, her little rear in the air. Johanna adjusted the quilt covering the baby and tiptoed over to her own bed. Each action seemed to take all the strength she had, as if she were slogging through deep snowdrifts. She wrapped her arms around her elbows and hugged herself, rocking back and forth to stem the sobs that threatened to tear her apart. If she weren’t careful, she’d wake the baby. She shed her clothes and crawled under the covers, burying her face and her sobs in the pillow.

  Waking in the morning to a baby’s screaming cries did nothing for her peace of mind. “Shush, little one, your ma’s right here.” She changed the soaking baby and took her into bed with her for her breakfast.

  That afternoon when the bell tinkled for the third or fourth time, she was losing track, she entered the shop to see Clara fingering a bolt of gingham. “Clara, how good to see you.” Johanna extended her hands.

  “And you.” Clara took them and smiled, her gaze searching. “Gudrun wanted to come today too, but she ended up feeling a mite poorly so I came alone. Have you thought anything about some gowns for me for the months ahead?”

  Johanna shook her head. “I haven’t had to time to think about what to cook for dinner. While I can’t afford the help, I have thought of hiring that young woman that worked for Miss Sharon.” She swung their still joined hands. “Have you told Dag yet?”

  Clara nodded, her eyes sparkling. “He’s choosing boy names, of course. And Gudrun is ready to redecorate the nursery. Says we are finally fulfilling her heart’s desire, to see children playing again in that big house.”

  “Here, do you have time for a cup of tea?” Johanna turned toward the workroom. “Let me put away a couple of things first. You go on in and sit down.” She spun around and hurried over to the front door. After turning the lock, she pulled down a shade that said “Closed.”

  Clara stood over the cradle in the corner, her hands clasped to her bosom, a smile curving her mouth. “She is so beautiful.” Her whisper greeted Johanna at the doorway. “Angel, that is indeed who you are.” She looked up when Johanna brought the teakettle forward on the stove. “I am not surprised a bit that Caleb is so taken with her. Perhaps she reminds him of his own baby girl.”

  Johanna felt herself stiffen, and when she tried to swallow, her throat was dry. “D— do you take milk with your tea?”

  “No, thank you, a bit of honey if you have it, otherwise sugar.” Clara crossed the room and sank into the rocking chair. “You have made such a cozy home already.” She looked at the blocks Henry had left by the big box the wagon came in. “I think children’s things give that feeling, don’t you?”

  Have you seen Caleb? Johanna’s mind screamed so loudly she was afraid her visitor would cover her ears. Did Caleb send you here? She squashed that thought with a Don’t be silly, and poured the boiling water over the tea leaves. Reminding herself that she had done what was best, she poured the liquid into the cups and handed one to her guest. “Why don’t we sit at the table?” Her cup rattled against the saucer.

  “Johanna, are you all right?” Clara studied her over the rim of her cup. “You’re working too hard, aren’t you?”

  “No, no, I’m fine, just busy, that’s all. Running a shop like this takes some getting used to, you know. I think I got lazy living in the lap of luxury like I did at your house.”

  Clara harrumphed and shook her head. “Lazy does not apply to you, my friend. But you look, I don’t know, troubled, sad.”

  Angel whimpered in her cradle. Thank You, Lord, for small favors. Johanna pushed back her chair. “I need to change and feed her. We’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, settled in the rocker, Johanna kept the conversation centered on general matters, refusing to allow the personal to surface again. That was one of the bad things about good friends. They had the ability to see right through each other. And Clara was exceedingly perceptive.

  Later, after playing with the baby, Clara sighed. “I really must go. We’ll talk about those dresses as the time gets closer. I miss having you at the house, and Henry and Angel. It’s awfully quiet again. I even miss Sam’s claws ticking on the floors, silly, isn’t it?”

  “No, I don’t think it silly at all. I’m just so grateful you call me friend.”

  Clara donned her coat and hat by the front door. “Just so you know that this friend is available should you ever need anything, especially someone to talk to.”

  “I know that, and thank you.” Johanna heard Henry and the dog coming down the stairs. She leaned her head against the glass in the door, watching Clara reach the street, turn, and wave. That was one more thing. If Caleb didn’t visit anymore, she would have to get his dog back to him some way. He was probably so mad at her, he’d whistle for Sam when he was outside. Surely Henry was feeling safe enough now, or was he?

  The thought of the days and weeks ahead with no Caleb to come calling brought a heaviness to her chest. Why couldn’t they still be friends?

  On Sunday she walked to church with her children. She looked around the congregation from the rear but nowhere did she see his broad shoulders and fine head. When they left, he still had not come. Was he sick? The thought grabbed at her insides.

  She forced a smile and answered the greetings of those around her. When Angel began to fuss, she excused herself and headed for home. You will not cry! she berated herself again and again. You chose this path so now you must walk it—alone.

  A carriage pulled up beside her. “I know it’s too late to offer you a ride, but we would love you to come for dinner.” Dag’s voice drew her around.

  “Thanks, but not today. I have so much to do and Angel is fussing. She might be coming down with something so I think I better keep her home.” Angel was fussing but only because she was hungry. Was this little white lie a terrible thing? Surely she couldn’t bear it if Caleb were there. He usually came for Sunday dinner.

  “I’m sorry,” Clara added. “I know Gudrun would love to see you and the children. She’s feeling rather housebound.”

  Guilt could drive arrows deeper than any bow. “Is she very sick?” Go, no, don’t go wrestled in her mind.

  “She doesn’t dare be, the way Mrs. Hanson is carrying on.” Clara shook her head, setting the ribbons on her bonnet to bobbing. “Maybe next time, all right?”

  Johanna nodded and waved as they drove off. She quickly turned into her gate, letting it slam behind her. She felt like slamming all kinds of things, doors, kettles. Her life here would be so perfect if it weren’t for the sheriff—and her hungry heart.

  By the end of the week, her skirt sagged at her middle. Johanna knew she better force herself to eat, but how did one turn off the thoughts and nightmares that followed the few times she had fallen asleep?

  The days lapsed into weeks with Johanna sewing, fitting, and acting as if all were right. Inside she alternated between freezing and flaming.

  One typical morning Henry woke her to say that Angel was crying. She leaped out of bed, remorse lending strength to her feet. If she couldn’t even take care of her baby, what was going to happen to her? She had spent a fitful n
ight and the nightmare she’d just released returned with a vengeance as she nursed a now smiling Angel. Raymond, always Raymond, pursuing her, this time with a whip. She could hear him rattling the door of her mind, no matter how hard he slammed it.

  She finally made breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen, and sat down at her sewing machine. The dress for Clara had to be done today, she’d been at it far too long. Scolding herself for the miserable way she was acting had become a habit. When the bell tinkled to announce a customer, she pushed herself to her feet, squared her shoulders, and plastered a smile on her face.

  The smile ran into hiding as soon as she saw the man standing in the middle of the shop. Summoning up every bit of strength she possessed, she forced herself to speak. “Good morning, Sheriff Stenesrude, how can I help you this morning?”

  He studied her face a moment before clearing his throat.

  Henry, with Sam on his heels, darted through the curtained door and threw himself at Caleb’s knees. The dog yipped and wagged, turning himself inside-out with joy.

  Johanna flinched from another arrow of guilt. Sam was Caleb’s dog, not theirs.

  Caleb, blinking extra-fast, picked Henry up so he could look him right in the eye. “How’ve you been, son, taking good care of your ma?” Henry nodded so hard his hair flopped in the breeze. “I see Sam is in fine fettle, you been taking good care of him for me, huh?” Again Henry nodded. Caleb leaned over and sat the boy down, giving the dog a good ear rubbing at the same time. “Why don’t you two go play in the other room, I need to talk with your ma.”

  Henry’s shoulders slumped and his smile melted away but he did as told, only looking over his shoulder once before trudging out. He had buried his hand in Sam’s ruff so the dog paced beside him.

  Caleb turned his hat brim round and round in front of him. “I—hear you’ve been real busy.” He cleared his throat again.

  “Ja, that I have.” She memorized his face for the lonely nights.

  “I—I come for my dog. I thought by this time Henry would be okay without him.” His words came out in a rush as if he needed to get them over with.

  Johanna nodded. ‘I’ve been telling him this day would come.”

  “I hate to do this to him but . . .” His words trailed off. He stared into her eyes, as if probing her soul.

  Tell him he can come calling again. No, don’t. The war exploded in her head.

  “I’ll get him for you.” She tore her eyes from his and spun around. Ducking through the curtain, she wished she could do anything but this. She knelt in front of Henry, hands on his shoulders. “Son, you have to be very brave now, like we been talking about. Sheriff Stenesrude needs Sam back.”

  A tear welled out of his blue eyes and sparkled on his cheek before being chased down by another.

  Johanna fought the moisture gathering at the back of her throat and eyes. “You are such a good, big boy. I promise you, as soon as we hear of someone who has pups, we’ll get one for you. That’ll be your own dog.”

  Henry buried his face in the dog’s fur, his shoulders shaking.

  Sam turned and licked the tears off Henry’s face, whining his sympathy.

  “Come, Henry.” She gave him her hand and together they walked into the shop, Sam padding beside the boy. ‘Thank you for loaning us your dog, Sheriff. We’re much obliged.”

  “Johanna, I . . .”

  “Good-bye, Sheriff.” She turned and walked with Henry back to the kitchen where she sat in the rocker and lifted him into her lap. Finally the doorbell signaled his departure. Henry’s sobs finally turned to sniffles but he remained leaning against her chest. The kitchen seemed empty.

  When the bell tinkled again, she wished she had pulled down the closed sign. With a sigh, she deposited Henry on the floor and returned to the shop. “Gudrun, what a nice surprise.”

  “Hello, my dear. I’m sorry I’ve been so long without visiting you.” She leaned on her knob-headed cane. “What has happened to you? You look terrible.”

  Johanna smoothed back her hair and sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “I have plenty of time to listen.”

  Johanna shook her head. “Not today. I don’t think I’m up to it right now.” She bit her lip at the compassion radiating from her friend. She felt guilty again. After all, she should have called on her when she knew the older woman wasn’t feeling well. What kind of a friend was she?

  Gudrun nodded. “Tomorrow then, you will come for dinner after church and when the children are down for their naps, we will get to the bottom of all this.”

  “I can’t, I . . .”

  “Caleb will not be invited.”

  “He—he came for Sam today.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Gudrun squared her shoulders. “I will see you tomorrow then.”

  “Ja, we will come.” When the old woman turned to leave, Johanna asked, “Did you need something today?”

  Gudrun paused. “Yes, but we will deal with this other first. ‘Til tomorrow then.”

  Johanna followed her to make sure there was no problem with the steps but Mrs. Norgaard sailed out the yard and to her waiting carriage, ignoring the mud caused by the melting snow. Johanna lifted her face to the sun’s warmth. It had seemed clouds had covered the sun for the last month. Or was it only cloudy over her?

  Each night and nap, Henry cried himself to sleep. Johanna stared down at him, shaking her head. Surely someone must have some puppies soon. She’d have to remember to ask Dag if he knew of any.

  Sunday morning came rushing on like a runaway train. Every other minute she swore she would not go, not to church, not to Clara’s, not outside her front door. In the saner minutes, she dressed the children for church and herself too.

  Ingeborg Moen met them at the door. “Oh, Johanna, I am so glad to see you. I’ve missed you but I couldn’t even come calling because we’ve had the measles at our house and I didn’t want to bring it to your children.” She cooed at Angel and patted Henry on the head.

  “Are they all right now?”

  “Still some spots but back to running around so on the mend. Mary stayed home with them so I could come to church. I feel like I’ve been gone forever.” She turned as the organ began to play. “Why don’t you come sit with me, that all right with you, Henry?” At his nod, she added. “So there, that’s all settled.”

  Since they sat in the front of the church, Johanna couldn’t look around for Caleb. But she knew he wasn’t there, she couldn’t feel his presence. Though the service went by in a blur, one verse from the Gospel stayed with her: Jesus promised to be a husband to the widows and a father to the fatherless. If only that applied to me. She caught her thought in horror. She couldn’t wish Raymond dead, no matter how much she feared him. It wasn’t Christian.

  After the service, she stood by Clara and Dag as he helped Mrs. Norgaard up in the carriage. He assisted the other two women aboard and lifted Henry up on the seat beside the driver. “If you think you’re strong enough, you could maybe help me drive the team.” The child’s answering grin nearly broke his mother’s heart. As if it weren’t in tatters already, Johanna’s mind responded.

  When Dag lifted the boy onto his lap and invited him to take the reins with his own over them, light beamed from the boy’s face.

  “He’ll make a good father, won’t he?” Clara whispered.

  “Very good,” Johanna whispered back

  During the meal, swallowing small bites took every bit of concentration she possessed. She’d known from the look on Mrs. Hanson’s face that she would not tolerate food returning to the kitchen on Johanna’s plate. Even so, she slipped some over to Henry’s in the guise of cutting up his meat. Dag winked at her when she looked up, sending a rush of moisture to her eyes. Yelling she could handle, kindness no.

  Later, after nursing Angel and putting both children down to sleep, she made her way back downstairs and into the parlor. Clara sat in front of the tall windows, her embroidery hoop in hand while Dag snored gently beneath the newspa
per.

  “She’s in her office, waiting for you.” She smiled at the look of trepidation that crossed Johanna’s face. “She won’t eat you, you know, and if you want me to come in and hold your hand, I will.”

  Johanna squared her shoulders. “No, thank you. I will manage. You can ask her later what happened.” Clara nodded.

  Johanna tapped at the door and, on invitation, entered the room. A fire crackled in the fireplace, throwing a rosy glow over the woman in the chair. The younger woman crossed and rubbed her frozen hands in the welcome heat before taking the other chair.

  “Now, my dear, how can I help you?”

  The warm tone made Johanna blink several times. She sighed. “I guess I will start at the beginning.”

  “That is always a good place.”

  “First of all, I am a married woman, not a widow like you probably surmised. I ran away from my husband because . . . because I couldn’t stand his beatings anymore. I lost one other baby when he threw me against a wall and I was determined to not lose this one . . . Angel.”

  “And he beat Henry too?”

  Johanna nodded. “I know that’s why he doesn’t talk. He did everything he could to become invisible. For years I thought it was all my fault, if I could try harder, be nicer, whatever, he would love me like he said he did in the beginning. My folks thought he was a fine man, they encouraged me to marry him and I agreed. I had a good, warm house, our farm produced well, what more could I ask for?”

  “Did they know about his temper?”

  “One day I told my mother but she said many men smacked their wives around a bit.”

  “A bit?”

  “I never again told her how bad it was. When he broke my arm, I decided I couldn’t stay any longer but it took months before I could leave. He watched me like a hawk.” She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap, the knuckles white. “I’ve been so afraid he would come find me.” Silence reigned for a time.