Rebecca's Reward

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I know. So getting married will help settle her flighty ways.”

  Gerald rose from his seat and fought to keep his voice calm. “She is not flighty, Mother. Far from it. Please don’t spread false words.”

  “Well, it’s not your concern anymore. Go for your lunch.”

  Gerald stood outside for a few moments. Should he go and confront the man? He could feel his mother watching him. Why was she always so negative toward Rebecca? A movement caught his eye, and he saw Thorliff wave before entering the store. Then Mrs. Geddick headed across the street toward Garrisons’ Groceries. Reluctantly he turned away. Maybe a confrontation now was premature. Yet the thought of that man even touching Rebecca made Gerald’s skin prickle. There was something definitely wrong here. But what? He heard the train whistle announcing the eastbound arrival. Her train tomorrow couldn’t arrive fast enough for his liking.

  16

  “HAAKAN, WAKE UP. Is something wrong?” Ingeborg shook his shoulder once and then again. While he muttered, he didn’t really rouse. “Haakan!” Fear slid a fillet knife between her ribs. “God, help us. Haakan.” She patted his cheeks, leaning over him, then shook him again.

  He mumbled something but she had no idea what. It was his muttering that had awakened her in the first place. Lifting the chimney from the kerosene lamp, she struck a match, and when the wick flared, set the chimney back in place. With the light she could see that his eyelids were flickering, but other than the mumbling, he was not awake. Would not wake up? Or could not wake up? The blade struck deeper.

  She fetched her medical bag and, setting it on the chair by the bed, pulled out her stethoscope and listened to his heart. Dr. Elizabeth had insisted she buy one and then taught her how to use it. There didn’t seem to be any irregularities, but did it sound sluggish? She listened to her own heart to compare. Yes, his was slower, but then, hers was probably faster due to the fear wrapping her in its slithery arms, the same fear that knifed through her again.

  She forced herself to take a deep breath, all the while her mind screaming for God to listen, to take over, to make everything right.

  “Haakan.” She spoke in a stern voice, ordering him to pay attention. Surely the shock of that would wake him up. Keeping herself from screaming at him took every ounce of self-control. Clamping his cold hand between hers, she raised her voice again. “Haakan, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” She waited. Was that just a reflex or had he squeezed her hand? “Please, Haakan, pay attention. Squeeze my hand.” Sure enough, the pressure was faint, but it was there.

  His eyelids flickered again and slowly opened. His brow wrinkled, and his eyes wandered before focusing on her searching gaze. “Whwhy? Y-yel-ling?” The effort of speaking made him suck in a breath.

  “O dear God, Father, thank you. Thank you. Oh, Haakan, you didn’t respond when I shook you. You scared me half to death.” She clung to his hand, kissing his cheek, ignoring the tears that dampened the front of his woolen underwear. Something has happened. He is not himself, and Astrid isn’t even here. While she had no idea what time it was, dawn had not yet begun to lighten the sky.

  Her mind ran through all the diagnoses she could think of. Heart attack? It didn’t sound like it, and he’d not complained of pain. Had it not been for his muttering, she’d still be sleeping. Heart attacks usually caused intense pain. Had he mentioned not feeling well after supper? No. He’d read some of the articles from Thorliff ’s paper to her while she sat knitting soakers for Ellie’s baby. They’d had a cup of coffee, and he’d enjoyed a piece of cake, the last of the spice apple. And they’d gone to bed. There was nothing unusual she could think of.

  “Are you in pain anywhere?”

  He answered with a barely perceptible shake of his head. “C-cold.”

  She’d not have heard him were she not paying such close attention. “I’ll get a quilt. Be right back.” The extra quilts were stored in the trunk that had come from Norway with her and Roald. The freshness of cedar wafted up as she lifted the lid. Onkel Olaf had lined the trunk with thin slats of cedar so the moths wouldn’t eat the precious wool quilts and knit sweaters and vests. She also kept some of her handspun wool yarn in the bottom of the trunk. Giving the quilt a shake she hurried back to the bedside and flipped it over her husband, all the while sending more pleas heavenward.

  Haakan lay on his back, his gaze roving around the room as though he weren’t sure where he was.

  She took his left hand in hers. “Please squeeze my hand.” The squeeze wasn’t strong, but at least he could follow instructions. “Give me your other hand.”

  A frown creased his forehead. He looked at his right arm, then back at her. He lifted his head, obviously trying to raise his arm, but nothing happened. A whimper near to broke her heart.

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry about this.” She laid her cheek against his. “We’ll get through this. I know God has a purpose.” God, please heal this man. Show me how to help him. Wisdom, Lord. We need wisdom.

  Haakan clenched his teeth and glared at his right hand, as if it were the worst of enemies. He flopped his head back on the pillow, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort.

  “Haakan, please look at me. Fighting it isn’t going to help. Not right now. I’m sure you’ll be able to move your arm again, but it might take time.” She couldn’t understand his garbled response. Fear filled his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, his left hand clenching hers until she winced in pain. “Haakan, let loose. I’m not going to leave you except to go put more wood in the stove. I’ll make some coffee, and we’ll get you sitting up, see if you feel better that way. Please.”

  He nodded and let go of her hand.

  She rubbed it to bring the circulation back, needles stabbing like a foot that had gone to sleep. “I’m going now, all right? I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes.

  If only we had one of those telephones, I could call Elizabeth. But coming in the night like this wouldn’t be necessary. What kind of tea can I make that might help him? She let her thoughts roam through her simples, reminding herself what each of them did. Perhaps Dr. Elizabeth would have something. She could give him laudanum. That might help him sleep, but he didn’t seem to be in pain. He needed something to help him relax. She filled the stove and left the damper wide open to get it burning more quickly, then poured warm water from the reservoir into the coffeepot.

  Setting a small pan of water to boil, she crossed to the bedroom door to check on her husband. He lay as she’d left him, his eyes closed, but she could see the quilts rise with his breathing. Could this be apoplexy? Taking a lamp in hand, she stopped in the pantry to search through the bottles of dried leaves and roots, all her natural pharmacopoeia that she had gathered through the summer and fall. Willow bark could help for pain. Foxglove for heart, but the problem didn’t seem to be his heart. Something that would be calming … Peppermint? Comfrey?

  She checked on him again, this time stopping at the side of the bed and listening for any breathing problems. He seemed to be sleeping, his mouth slightly open. Was something wrong with the right side of his face too? Oh no. Apoplexy, then. But people recover from apoplexy, and he recognized her. Maybe this was just a little one, a warning. Haakan was right-handed, although he’d learned to use both hands fairly equally. Dear Lord, you know he’s never been a patient man with being sick. Thank you that those times have been so few. He’s always been so caring, so ready to take care of others, but he doesn’t like being on the receiving end. Back in the kitchen she added the ground coffee to the boiling water and pushed the pot back from the hottest part of the stove. The clock showed four o’clock.

  In all her years of doctoring, she’d learned that this was the hour that so many of her patients died. The time when the body’s defenses were the lowest. If only she could ask Pastor Solberg to come pray with them. Lord, I need someone, someone here to help me pray. Please don’t let him die.

  Haakan’s breathing was st
rong, and when she listened to his heart again, his eyes fluttered open. This time his vision was clear, and he looked more like himself.

  “W-what?” He frowned and tensed again.

  “I think you’ve had an attack of apoplexy. That means a blood vessel broke in your brain, but I don’t think it was a big one. You have some difficulty talking, and your right arm is not responding. But it will come back. Can you move your right leg?” She watched as the leg moved, including the foot. “Good, very good. I’m going to send Andrew for Dr. Elizabeth as soon as he comes to milk.”

  “Lars.”

  “Yes, if he gets here first. He doesn’t always come to the house like Andrew does. The coffee is about ready. I’ll put some cream in it, and we’ll see how well you can swallow.”

  A frown shaped a V between his graying eyebrows.

  “I know. But all we can do right now is find out what all is affected.” She patted his hand before turning away to get the coffee. How do I help him sit up? Her mind darted from idea to idea, not stopping, but like a hummingbird tasting every possibility. She poured the coffee, added cream, and sipped to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Grabbing a spoon, she returned to the bedroom.

  Haakan lay tipped to the right, his eyes narrowed in anger.

  “You couldn’t wait.” She shook her head, forcing a teasing smile to her lips. “I’ve been thinking on this. I will help you from the right, and together we will get you braced against the pillows. But you must let me know if you feel any pain.” Ignoring his glare, she set the cup down and walked around the end of the bed. She stacked their pillows against the headboard and knelt on the bed. “On three. Use your legs as much as you can. I’ll be your right arm.”

  He nodded, his jaw tense, and planted his left hand against the mattress. When she said three, they both pushed. She lifted as much as possible and braced against his shoulder. They were both puffing when he sat fairly upright, leaning only slightly to the right. She pushed against him and stepped back.

  “I’m going to start with the spoon, and let’s see how your throat works.”

  He nodded and sucked in a deeper breath.

  At least your lungs are working. She came around the bed.

  He reached with his left hand for the edge of the mattress to counteract a tendency to slip to the side.

  “I’ll get another pillow for that later.” She picked up the cup and, dipping a spoonful, held it to his lips. When he took it into his mouth, she watched his Adam’s apple move down and up. “It went down?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, thank you, God.” She felt like collapsing on the bed and letting the tears roll, but held firmly on to her emotions. Instead, she held out another spoonful. After several more swallows, she laid the spoon down. “Do you want to try drinking from the cup?”

  “Yes.” His voice came stronger.

  She held the cup for him and let him drink. “Once is enough for right now, I think.”

  He nodded and rested his head back, his eyes drifting closed. Ingeborg sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand, lifting it to her cheek. He turned it and cupped her jaw, the gentle pressure speaking of years of love and caring.

  “We’re going to get through this,” she whispered. “It could be so much worse.”

  “Ja.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then I’m coming back to bed for a while and watch you rest. I know I should start the bread, but it can wait.”

  He nodded and sighed.

  Ingeborg tapped a forefinger against her chin. “Let’s get you prone first. I’m sure getting down will be easier than up.”

  Haakan nodded, his face slightly slack on the right side. He dug in his heels and scooted himself part way before listing to the right. Ingeborg went around the bed again and, moving his right arm, helped move him down. After rearranging the pillow, she pulled the covers up and tucked them around his shoulders.

  “I’ll be right back.” The ticking clock sounded loud in the silence. The cat chirped once but didn’t leave her box. Even she knew it was not yet morning. Maybe she should just stay up. After all, would she be able to sleep anyway? Or should she go for Andrew now? Something said she might need all the sleep she could get, so she refilled the stove, turned the damper toward closed, and moved the coffeepot to the cooler part of the stove. That’s all she needed was to burn the coffeepot dry. When that had happened years ago, the coffee had tasted burnt for months. She lit a lantern and put it outside the door. If Lars arrived before Andrew, the light should bring him in.

  Slipping back under the covers, she lay on her left side so that she could put her right arm over her husband’s now steadily rising and falling chest. Lord, you are our great physician. Please, I beg of you, see your way clear to heal Haakan of this infirmity. Restore the muscles and nerves so that he can use his hand with full strength. The thought of the things he’d not be able to do with one hand pushed her down into the feather bed. She closed her eyes and inhaled and then released all the air in her lungs until she felt flat. Warmth started in her icy cold feet and moved upward. She breathed deeply again and saw in her mind Jesus sitting beside a creek in a grassy field. The smile He gave her made the sun seem dim. She could even hear his voice speaking gently, Come unto me. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. Come unto me. Was there anyplace else she would rather be? If only she could carry Haakan there. She fell asleep leaning against Jesus’ knee.

  “Mor.”

  The voice came from a far distance. Why was Andrew calling her? Andrew. Oh, thank you, Father, it is morning. As the memories of the night swept back, she kept herself from throwing back the quilt and instead slid out and headed for the door.

  “You overslept. Are you all right?” Andrew stood on the rug by the door, removing his winter hat.

  Ingeborg put a finger to her lips and glanced over her shoulder. “Is it Far?”

  She nodded. “He woke in the night confused, and his right arm isn’t responding.”

  “Can he talk?”

  “With a bit of difficulty. But he can swallow, and he can move his leg. Is Lars at the barn yet?”

  “I don’t know. You want me to go get Dr. Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, but let me check on him first to see how he is now. He went back to sleep about four o’clock.” Andrew followed her into the bedroom and stared down at his father.

  “He is breathing good.”

  “Yes. I think it is what they call apoplexy. A vessel ruptures in the brain, but this one doesn’t seem to be a major one, because—” She stopped and leaned over the bed at Haakan’s groan.

  His eyes fluttered open. “It wasn’t … a dream …was it?” His words were slightly slurred and slow, but he was talking far better.

  “No. No, it wasn’t. Andrew is here.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’ll talk to Lars, have him send Kaaren over, and then ski in to Thorliff ’s. You don’t have to worry about a thing but getting better.” Andrew’s voice choked on the words. “Can I get you anything before I go?”

  “No. Wind … sound … not good.” Haakan forced the words out.

  “The sky is clear this morning. I’ll be back soon.” Andrew touched his father’s hand. “All shall be well.”

  Ingeborg sniffed at hearing those old, old words of comfort coming from her son. All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well. Pastor Solberg had read them from a book of famous early Christians one time. Juliana of Norwich was a devout Christian writer born in the 1300s. Grateful for the reminder of the words and the woman, Ingeborg followed Andrew back to the kitchen. “Have Thorliff telephone Pastor Solberg, please.”

  “I will.” Andrew threw one arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

  She closed the door behind him and leaned against it, feeling the cold biting through her flannel nightdress. She’d not even taken time to put her robe on. Lord, protect my son. Let Elizabeth know what can be done. She headed back t
o the bedroom to dress. Let the worst part of this day be over.

  17

  STARTING BREAKFAST WAS A good substitute for worry. And knowing that help was on the way eased Ingeborg’s mind too. Truly God had blessed them all with one another. Andrew would have Lars send Kaaren over. He knew how much Ingeborg needed her.

  “Inge?” The voice sounded faint, and she ran back to the bedroom immediately. Wiping her hands on her apron, she stood at the bedside. “What do you need?”

  “To get up.”

  “I’d rather you wait until Elizabeth sees you. A bit more bed rest might be good.” In case too much activity could cause a recurrence. But she hated to tell him that. Memories of the days he had been so sick with the mumps made her dread what lay ahead. But still, he was alive and had movement in his arms and legs. Thank you, Lord.

  “If you help me … sit up, I can swing my legs … over the edge, and maybe … I can stand.”

  Had the incident affected his hearing? She started to say something, then recognized the steel clamping of his teeth together. “Can’t we take this one step at a time?”

  “That’s what I want … to do…. Take a step.”

  “I’d rather Andrew were here to help pick you up if you fall. You are too heavy for me. Please. He’ll be back any minute. He skied and left about twenty minutes ago.”

  “It seems longer.”

  “You fell right back to sleep when he left. Rest is healing.”

  A knock at the door caught her attention. “Promise me you’ll wait until I can help you?” At his nod, she headed back to the kitchen in time to see Pastor Solberg closing the door behind him.

  “How is he?”

  “Wanting to get up.”

  “Good. Dr. Elizabeth called me, but I was about on my way over here anyway.” He took off his hat and hung it on the peg, then his coat. “What time did it happen?”

  “About three o’clock.”

  He shook his head. “Amazing. I woke at three with the absolute assurance that I needed to pray for Haakan. Like God gave me explicit instructions.”