“Good thing you didn’t take the ropes down.” Ingeborg stepped away so Haakan could turn the horse and head back to the barn. She trudged up the stairs. One good thing, Astrid would just stay at Thorliff ’s if the weather turned as black as it looked at the moment. She caught the frame of the izing glass—covered screen door when the wind tried to tear it from her hands and slam it back against the wall. “Uff da. I never have cared for wind like this.” She stamped the snow off her boots in the enclosed porch, grateful for the buffer between the kitchen door and the snarling storm.
Stepping into her warm kitchen with the doors shut behind her made her breathe a sigh of relief. She set her baskets down on the floor and unwound her long natural wool scarf, removed gloves and hat, and unbuttoned her coat, already appreciating the warmth now tingling on her wind-bitten cheeks. Surely there was no place on earth as good as home. Even though she’d been gone only a few hours, coming back in the teeth of the storm made the warmth and lingering smell of Haakan’s pipe, along with the rich fragrance of baking ham and beans, all the more appreciated. She hung her things on the coat tree and set the food basket on the counter, then made her way to set the other on the treadle sewing machine she’d moved into the kitchen, where it was warmer, for the winter.
The orange-and-white cat stepped out of her box behind the stove and stretched as only a cat can, revealing a pink tongue and white needle teeth. She chirped and came to rub against Ingeborg’s heavy wool skirt.
“I sure hope you got that mouse I found in the pantry.” Ingeborg picked up the cat and held her close while rubbing her head and ears. While the cat was officially Astrid’s, she really belonged to the entire family. “S’pose we ought to start the biscuits, eh? I know you’d rather I sat down in the rocking chair in front of the stove and took up my knitting or something so you could have the lap.” She set the cat on the floor. “Sorry, not right now. I need to work on supper.” The cat stuck her nose in the air and strolled over to the rug to sit down and clean herself.
Ingeborg chuckled and retrieved the flour from the pantry, along with the buttermilk and other supplies. Using a spill, she lighted the kerosene lamps to drive away the early dark created by the storm. The wind pleaded for entrance and slammed the roof when denied. Ingeborg glanced up, grateful for the strength the men had built into the house. “Lord, keep everyone safe” had been her blizzard plea for years, even when she wanted to hide in bed with a pillow blocking the roaring wind. Years earlier she’d thought the stories of people on the prairie going insane with the wind and walking out of their house to freeze to death were myths until she knew a woman who did just that.
Now the only power she knew that was stronger than the wind was God himself. And so she prayed as she mixed the dough, kneaded it a few times, patted it out to a half inch thick, and cut the rounds. After sliding the pan into the oven, she paused to listen. Surely the men should be at the house by now. Wouldn’t it be better for Andrew to stay overnight rather than cross the fields to his own house?
When she heard booted feet on the porch kicking off the snow, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. But only Haakan came through the door, a bucket of milk in his gloved hand.
“Where’s Andrew?”
“I sent him home earlier, before the storm got so bad.”
Relief sloughed off her shoulders, and she stood straight again. “And Lars?”
“He is following the rope home.”
“And to think I thought of taking it down the other day.”
“Why would we take it down before May, when we always do?” He set the bucket on a stool and took off his outer clothing, then caught his heel in the boot jack and levered his boots off too. Padding over to the stove in his stocking feet, he held his hands flat over the heat. “It’s been colder before, but that wind tears right through you.”
Ingeborg set the bucket on the counter while she fetched flat pans to pour the milk into so she could skim off the cream that would rise to the top by the morning. “Supper is ready when you are. This is one of those times I wish we all had telephones. I want to know for sure Andrew made it home.”
“He had the rope to follow if he needed it.”
“He should have stayed here.”
“And have Ellie worry herself sick all night?”
Ingeborg drained the last from the bucket and carried it to the stove, where she could wash it out with hot water from the reservoir. “So true. And she would worry. That’s where the telephone would come in.”
She pulled the pan of golden-brown biscuits from the oven and slid them from the pan into a towel-lined bowl, then set it on the table. The pot of beans she set in front of Haakan’s place. The wind shrieked, but with Haakan in the house with her, it could shriek all it wanted. She had to take his word that Andrew had left early enough. Sometimes faith took a lot of prayer.
They sat down and bowed their heads. “Lord God,” Haakan prayed, “I thank you for this tight house, the good food before us, safety for all those we love, and most of all for your Son, who died and rose again that we might live. Mange takk. Amen.”
Ingeborg joined him in the amen and reached to spoon out the beans onto her husband’s plate. Such a simple thing and one more to be grateful for. She fought against the memories that the howling wind brought back, memories of winters in the soddy, the shortage of food, the loneliness, the despair. Slamming the lid on the box in her mind, where she stuffed the memories, she dished up her own plate and passed the bowl of biscuits to Haakan, then the butter and the strawberry-rhubarb jam. “You want pickles?” She held up the dish. At his nod, she forked several of the dill slices onto his plate and also several chunks of beet pickles.
After the first couple of bites, Haakan sighed. “This has to be the perfect meal for a night such as this. Ham we smoked, beans you grew and dried, pickles, flour from our wheat, butter and milk from our cows. All this from the hand of God.”
“Helped along by our hands.” She patted his arm. “Today has been a good day for thanksgiving.”
“How was the quilting?”
“Good. We always accomplish so much. Elizabeth was able to get away to join us, and I managed to not dump the soup on Hildegunn.”
He nodded with a slight smile. “Ah, I see. She’s back to her usual tricks.”
“If you mean her mouth, you are absolutely right.” Ingeborg felt her shoulders tighten up.
“Ah, my Inge, let it go. You cannot change her.”
“That’s for sure. No one can. Of course, no one else is bothered by her so much as I am. I was thinking maybe all of us could get together and decide to ignore her when she starts her mean mouth.”
“I think you’d do better praying for her. Safer that way.”
“You think I haven’t been?”
“Any news from Rebecca?”
“Dorothy said that she wrote and said she was going to stay in Bismarck an extra week. She must be having a good time.”
“When we came through Fargo, Gus kept pacing, wondering if we would see her in the train station, even though we didn’t make plans to meet her on the way back. She didn’t mention how Hjelmer was doing?”
“Not that I know of. Oh, I forgot.” She pushed her chair back. “We got a letter today, from Norge.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know. Water had blurred the return address, and I haven’t read the letter yet.” She crossed to the coatrack and dug the letter out of her pocket, waving it as she returned to the table to slice the envelope open with her knife. Drawing out the thin paper, she unfolded it and looked at the signature. “From my cousin Alfreda.”
“Isn’t she the one who wanted to come over some years ago?”
“Ja.” Ingeborg leaned toward the lamp in the center of the table. Haakan pulled the lamp closer to her and returned to buttering another biscuit.
“Dear Ingeborg and Haakan,
“I am sorry I have not written sooner, but I still have the dream o
f coming to the new land. My husband, Thor, has passed away. Those traveling would be me and my two middle sons, the older of them being married. I have been saving for years to have enough money to come. Thor did not want to come, and that is why we did not.
“You mentioned before that there was land available, but I do not know if that is still true. But we are not afraid of hard work, as you know. I know that you have a cheese company, and perhaps you have need of someone to help you with that.”
Ingeborg looked up to see Haakan watching her. “Just think, maybe this is how God is going to answer my prayers for more help after we get the herds built back up.”
“Maybe.”
She returned to reading.
“There will be four adults and two children. My daughter-in-law is pregnant again. We would hope to come as soon as the weather permits, if you are in agreement. Please write as soon as you can.
“Affectionately,
Your cousin Alfreda Brunderson”
Ingeborg glanced through the letter again before folding it carefully and sliding it back in the envelope. “Now, what do you think of that? All these years and no one has wanted to come.”
Haakan nodded and rose to get his pipe from the rack behind the stove. Taking his pocketknife from his pocket, he pulled out the smallest blade and, opening the front lid on the stove, scraped the leftover tobacco into the coals.
Ingeborg waited while he went through the process of tamping the tobacco down in the pipe, lighting it with a spill, and returning to the table, where he leaned back in his chair.
“Would you like more coffee?”
He nodded and blew a smoke ring.
She fetched the coffeepot and filled both their cups, then brought a cake pan over to dish up squares of spiced apple cake and ladle cream over them. Peace reigned so supreme she’d forgotten about the storm. The cinnamon that flavored the apple cake made her taste buds dance. More family to join them in Blessing. She’d about given up that dream, although she’d thought of writing to one of her sisters or brothers with the same idea.
She waited for Haakan, knowing he’d speak when he was ready.
“I imagine you want to start writing the letter right now?”
As she pushed her chair back again, she patted his hand. “I knew we were thinking the same thing. You can help me.”
Funny, she thought as she started writing, now it would be easier to write this in English than in Norwegian. What a day. Past and present all mixed up together, shifting in and out like the weather. She looked up as a particular blast made both of them glance at the window. Lord God, please keep everyone safe from this beast of a north wind.
12
Bismarck, North Dakota
LATER THAT NIGHT IN her room, Rebecca opened the letter. After glancing at the handwriting earlier, she’d known it was from Dorothy.
Dear Rebecca,
I miss you. I guess I didn’t realize how much time we spend together until now that you are gone. Hans asks every day if today is the day you are coming home. I am glad you are having such a good time. You deserve to be out making new friends. Just don’t forget the old ones.
And right now I’m feeling mighty old. Or just huge. My mind knows this baby is not that much larger than the others, but perhaps my body is feeling a bit worn. I brought out the baby clothes and got them all washed and ready. Thank you for those extra diapers you hemmed for me. Somehow I just don’t find time to sit down at the machine, perhaps because every time I sit down, I fall asleep.
Gus was terribly disappointed, as were the other men, at the number of cows they brought back—half of what they’d been told and at twice the price. Some of these are bred heifers, and one was not old enough to breed yet. But at least all will be milking within the year, and that is more than we had before. Personally, I think Gus is lonely over there at the homeplace. He takes most of his meals with us and hangs around in the evening. He and Knute play cribbage after supper.
I guess that is all the news for now. Greet Penny and Hjelmer and the children for me. I’m sure they’ve grown a foot since they left here.
Your loving sister-in-law,
Dorothy
Rebecca laid the letter down on her folded-back sheets. Homesickness blindsided her like a blizzard from the north. Her heart hurt and tears flowed. She should be home helping Dorothy. Neither of the men thought to help her much or at all, as far as she could figure. But then, they weren’t the ones having the babies.
Was Gus taking care of the cat? Surely he wouldn’t let Franny go hungry. But if he wasn’t eating there … She reread the letter, mopped her tears, and looked around the room. This bedroom was nearly as big as the parlor at home. There was a bathroom down the hall, hot running water in the kitchen, and a basement furnace. She heaved a sigh. Would it be possible to put these kinds of conveniences in the house at home?
She thought to the arguments she’d gone through when she asked for water to be piped to the house from the well. You’d have thought she asked for a whole new house the way Gus carried on. But he’d appreciated the hand pump at the sink and even admitted one day that she’d been right. Well, almost admitted. Saying how handy it was had to do.
Rebecca laid the envelope on her nightstand to share with Penny in the morning. They were planning a sewing day, since the weather had turned blustery. She wondered if Penny would tell her what was really bothering her. Rebecca could see she was trying to listen to the Lord, but she also knew Penny well enough to sense there was more to her unhappiness than the move. Both she and Hjelmer seemed to carry a heaviness about them, like a secret they weren’t allowed to share or the sludge in the river after spring thaw. Was living away from Blessing the cause, or was it something else?
She picked up her Bible and turned to the book of John, where she was reading. Finding time to read was easier here, where all the housekeeping chores didn’t fall on her. Perhaps that’s what Penny meant when she said she was searching for God’s leading. If only Jesus’ miracles were still happening today. But the Bible said God was the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Maybe she could ask Pastor Solberg some of her questions when she got home.
The sun came out the next day, and she and Linnea walked to Benson’s Soda Emporium so she could talk again with Thomas. Since it wasn’t busy, he sat down at the table to visit with her once he’d served their ice cream.
“So, how do you like Bismarck?” he asked, after jumping up to get them napkins.
“It sure is different from Blessing. So many people here. Do you know everyone?”
He shook his head. “My mother and father used to, but even they say there are too many families and businesses to keep track of anymore. They had to put on a third milk route this fall.”
“Milk route?”
“We have horse-drawn wagons that carry the bottled milk, and a delivery man who sets the order on the front or back porch of those who have a standing order. They can order more if they want by checking off what they want on the delivery sheet.”
“Well, I never. Sort of like the ice man who delivers ice in the summer?”
“Same idea. In the summer the milk is delivered really early in the morning, and blocks of ice in the milk wagon help keep it cool so it won’t spoil. One year it got hot, and some of the cream got jostled around enough that it turned to butter before the last stop. When we started to get more new customers, Pa decided to have shorter routes and added a driver.”
Rebecca took her list of questions from her reticule. “I’ve been thinking on things to ask you, but when I get here I forget.” She motioned to the paper. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Though maybe you should ask my pa.”
She glanced down at her list. It was interesting how many lists she’d made lately. “Where did you buy your refrigeration machinery?”
“You’ll have to ask Pa. I can get the information and have it here for you next time you come.
”
“That would be nice. I know I can’t afford it yet, but after you showed me what it can be like, I know I’ll need it eventually.” She finished her ice cream. “Do a lot of people buy ice cream in the winter?”
He nodded. “We have a lot of parties here all year long.”
“What a good idea.” She made more notes to herself. Later, when a group of people came in, she put her paper and pencil away. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said as she left. “You have given me so much new information to consider.”
Thomas blushed. “Come back again if you like. Would you like to work with me for a few hours to see how it feels?”
“That would be very nice. Let me check with Penny.”
On the way home Linnea slipped her hand into Rebecca’s. “I like him,” she said, “and I really love going there.”
“What makes it so special?”
“It feels like home.” Linnea skipped a little.
Rebecca looked over at her, puzzled. “Like home?”
“Home in Blessing,” Linnea explained. “And Mr. Benson treats me like I’m a grown-up.”
Rebecca nodded. She’d noticed and smiled gratefully at Thomas when he’d answered Linnea’s questions with courtesy. She remembered what that felt like. The first man who had treated her as nicely was Gerald. That was when they’d become friends. The end-of-school picnic when she was twelve and he was in the graduating class. All the schoolchildren were participating in the various games, but Swen and Knute decided Rebecca could get hurt and barred her from competing.
“You’re too gawky,” Swen said. “You’ll just fall and be embarrassed.”
She had been so humiliated and angry that she rushed off to hide at the bend at the river. As usual, her brothers didn’t even notice she was missing, but Gerald did.
“There you are, Rebecca. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
She quickly rubbed her apron across her red eyes. “For me? Why?”
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