Forever My Own

by Tracie Peterson

  Ilian met her gaze. His forehead furrowed. “Thank you.”

  She nodded and went to retrieve the tray from the dresser. “Do you want to try it on your lap or just have it on the bed beside you? Mormor made the soup very thick, almost like a casserole, so you could eat it easier. Or I’m happy to help you.”

  He shook his head and snapped, “I’m not helpless.”

  She forgot about her English and switched to rapid-fire Swedish. “I know that, but you are in a bad way, and you don’t even appreciate that people are trying to help you.” She didn’t wait for his answer regarding the placement of the tray and set it beside him. “You don’t act grateful and instead are mean and ill-tempered. That hardly seems the right way to thank someone. Honestly, I heard you barking at your father, and now you’re barking at me. I’m trying to remember you have injuries that probably hurt, but I hardly see that you’ll feel better by yelling.”

  “I didn’t yell.” His voice had calmed. “I’m sorry for offending you.”

  Kirstin straightened and studied him for a moment. “It does offend me that you hate your father so much.”

  “It offends me that you don’t mind your own business.”

  “But it is my business. I’m helping nurse you to health. Your overall well-being is of my utmost concern, and your anger and bitterness is certainly not helping you heal. Maybe if you talked about why you’re so angry, it would help.”

  “It won’t help because it won’t change anything. Now, leave me alone and let me eat in peace.”

  “I could hear you two yelling all the way to the front stoop,” Domar said, coming into the room.

  “Domar! I thought we wouldn’t see you until this evening.” Kirstin went to him and gave him a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “What are you two fighting about?”

  “If you could hear so well, you already know,” Ilian replied.

  Kirstin stepped back. “I don’t know why you bother to be friends with someone who can so easily push away people who love and care about him.”

  Ilian gave a huff. “I don’t push away those people who deserve my respect and love.”

  “How is it that you have the right to judge who deserves your respect and love? You aren’t God, and as far as I can tell, you don’t even practice good sense.” She folded her arms against her body and fixed him with what she hoped was a stern look.

  “And neither do you.” Ilian shook his head. “You need to understand that there are things in this world that do not include you.”

  Kirstin looked at her brother. “I think your friend may have sustained a concussion in that accident. His mind isn’t working well.”

  Domar laughed. “Nope. He’s always been stubborn.”

  “Are you taking her side in this?” Ilian asked, his brows rising.

  Holding up his hands, Domar shook his head. “No. Don’t put me in the middle of this. I just came to say hello and see how you are after a month of pampering.”

  “The doctor is due in this afternoon, so I guess we’ll find out then.” Ilian motioned to the chair. “Why don’t you keep me company while I eat my lunch?”

  “Let me grab a bowl for myself, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Good. You can take care of him when he can’t handle something,” Kirstin declared and headed for the kitchen.

  She was completely exasperated with Ilian. How was she supposed to help him and his father put their lives back together if he wouldn’t be open and honest with her about why he hated Habram so much?

  “Having difficulties with Ilian, are you?” Mormor asked from where she was cracking nuts.

  Kirstin heard Domar coming down the hall and shook her head. “I’m just sick and tired of people and their unwillingness to just talk. Everything has to be so secretive.”

  “Talking about me, are you?” Domar asked, throwing Kirstin a smile.

  “I’m talking about anyone who refuses to understand that truth is better than lies.”

  “And exactly who is lying?” Domar asked, getting a bowl and helping himself to the chicken and dumplings. “Not much broth, eh?”

  “There’s more broth on the back of the stove you can add to yours,” Mormor replied. “Ilian needs it nice and thick. He has only one hand with which to feed himself, and he doesn’t like to be helped or babied.”

  “As far as I can see, he doesn’t like much of anything.” Kirstin went to get her own bowl.

  “He was certainly happy enough with you last night when you helped him be more comfortable in bed.” Mormor grinned.

  “What’s this?” Domar asked, looking at Kirstin as if she had plenty of explaining to do.

  “Oh, I’m not going to tell you. Everyone else thinks it’s just fine to say nothing, so I will follow your example.” She pushed past Domar and helped herself to the chicken and dumplings. “What I will say, however—” she paused and looked at both Mormor and Domar—“is that Habram is a very nice man, and I like him. He’s done nothing but treat me with kindness and joy. If I have to pick a side, I’m picking his, because no one who acts as he does could possibly be to blame for all the anger and bitterness I heard in Ilian’s voice.”

  “Maybe,” Domar said, “it’s best not to be judgmental about either one. Each man carries his burdens and cares. Some he’ll share, but others he feels compelled to carry alone. Neither tears nor jeers will change the mind of a determined man.”

  “That is very true, Domar. It’s best not to interfere,” Mormor said. “That’s what your morfar would have said about it. Sometimes we don’t get to know everything about a situation or matter.” She reached out and gave Kirstin’s arm a pat. “Sometimes it’s best to just let them explain in their time, rather than trying to force it.”

  “All I know is I was raised to tell the truth and be open with people when they asked me for explanations.” Kirstin stuck her spoon into the thick soup. “The Bible says the truth will set us free, but I guess some folks enjoy the prisons they’ve made for themselves.”

  Mormor nodded. “You’re right. Some do.” She glanced at Domar. “For whatever reason, some do.”

  Chapter 13

  “I think you’re improving, Ilian. Your range of motion is good, so I know you’ve been doing the exercises I gave you.” The doctor smiled and then listened to Ilian’s heart. “You sound good.” He straightened. “You show no signs of infection, and your blood circulation is good.”

  “Does that mean I can get up and start moving around?”

  “Well, a little more than you have been, yes. The problem is that you’ve got a broken arm as well as a broken leg. You can’t use the crutches in the manner you need to with just one crutch. You won’t have the necessary stability, and the last thing you want to do is fall. A fall could seriously undermine all that we’ve accomplished.”

  Ilian didn’t try to hide his feelings about the matter. “I’m sick of lying around.”

  “Well, with help and some adjustments, I will allow you to sit with your leg propped. I can show your friend Domar how to make the appropriate piece. You’ll need support for the leg the full length of the cast, and it’s usually best if it’s made in such a way that it’s attached to what you’re sitting on. I’ll draw it out for him.”

  “All right.” Ilian was disappointed that he couldn’t start working with crutches, but he was determined to follow orders and not lengthen his time in the casts. “When will the casts come off?”

  “For the arm, just another week or two at the most. Then you’ll work on strengthening it before we put you on crutches. The leg cast will be on for another few weeks. We need to give that femur plenty of time to heal. After it comes off, you’ll also have to strengthen it and be on crutches for a time. We don’t want to overdo it. I’ll let Mrs. Segerson know that you’ll be here with her probably another four, perhaps five weeks.”

  “So when I get the cast removed, I should be able to walk?”

  The doctor frowned. “I can’t tell you t
hat for sure. As I’ve told you from the beginning, you may always need to walk with a cane. If the leg hasn’t healed correctly, you may have limited mobility. You must be prepared for the possibilities.”

  “I know the future is unknown at this point, but I’d rather focus on walking and getting back to normal than consider any other possibility.”

  “Ilian, I don’t want you to disappoint yourself. Your break was bad. We did our very best to fix that break, but the leg will always be compromised. You can’t consider returning to any kind of logging work. That work is far too strenuous, and the risks are too great. You’ll never be strong enough for it.”

  “But it’s what I do for a living. Now you’re telling me I must do something entirely different.”

  “Something far less physical. You aren’t going to have the muscle strength to climb trees and stack logs. Your forearm isn’t going to hold up well to sawing or axe work.”

  “Well, maybe not at first, but in time I should be able to build the muscles back.” Ilian waited for confirmation.

  “Yes, the muscles should strengthen. I just can’t be sure of that leg. I haven’t seen other patients with this kind of break regain the kind of dexterity they’d need for climbing and working at the logging camps. Maybe you’ll be different. For now, keep up with your exercises, and perhaps you will be the exception.” The doctor glanced around and frowned. “I thought I told you to get a hanging bar of some sort over the bed.” He glanced overhead. “That will help tremendously, especially after the arm cast is removed.”

  “It’s being installed today. By the time the cast comes off, I’m sure I will have one-armed it many times.” Ilian eased back against the pillow.

  “Well, I’ll come check on you again in a week or so. Hopefully we can remove the arm cast.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Shall I tell the others what I’ve told you?” the doctor asked, motioning his head toward the door.

  “Please. That way maybe they’ll pester you with all their questions instead of me.”

  The doctor nodded and gathered his medical bag. “Then I will. Ilian, I know this has been hard on you, but you are doing the best of any patient I’ve ever had with a similar injury. Just be patient.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Ilian watched him leave and frowned. It sounded like he was still facing a lengthy recovery. He’d have to ask Domar to pull some money from his bank savings in order to pay Lena. He wasn’t about to sit around and let her take care of him for nothing. She and Kirstin had worked very hard to see that he had what he needed.

  “So the doc says you’re healing up nicely,” Domar said twenty minutes later, bringing his tools and building materials into the room. “If you aren’t too tired, I’d like to get that hand bar put in place. Mormor had a broken broom handle that I sanded down, and I think it will work perfectly. Now I just have to find the right place in the ceiling to secure the chains.”

  “Chains?”

  “Ja, you betcha,” Domar said with a grin. “I found some old pieces of chain that I saved years ago. You should never throw things away. There’s always a way to repurpose them. I remember Uncle Per asking me what I would ever do with the chain, and I said who could tell.” He chuckled. “But now I know.”

  Ilian smiled. “Well, hopefully it will be my ticket out of this bed.”

  Domar sobered. “Just don’t be in too big of a rush. I’d hate you to have to start all over again.”

  “I know. Me either.”

  Kirstin followed Habram out to the woodworking shop. He had already told Lena he planned to work on the boat all day, and Kirstin was hoping he would talk to her about the past. Now that Ilian was feeling better, she wanted to put his focus on healing his relationship with his dad. It gave her something to put her mind on other than what she should do about Domar. With him home this weekend and her month more than up, she had to try once more to convince him to let their folks know he was alive. If not, she was going to have to make her decision on how to handle the matter.

  “Mr. Farstad?”

  “Hello, Kirstin. Come in out of the cold.”

  She looked down the long room and spotted him at the far end, where he was working on the bow of the boat.

  “You’ve managed to get it nice and warm in here.” She walked to the stove and held out her hands. “I wondered if we might talk while you work. Or I can even help with something, if you show me how.”

  “No, you rest and just talk. Take a seat on that chair and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  She wasn’t sure where to begin, and she continued standing. After thinking about it for a minute, she finally posed a question. “Do you want to mend fences with your son?”

  Habram stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “I’ve wanted that more than anything. I’m not getting any younger, and this has been between us most of his life.”

  “Tell me more about it . . . if I’m not prying too much.” She smiled.

  He shrugged and refocused on his work. “You know the biggest part of it. His mother set him against me from the day he was born. She favored him greatly and loved him more than his sisters. But especially more than me.”

  “His sisters are in Kansas now, right?”

  “That’s right. They married farm boys. We had gone to Minneapolis for supplies, and the boys were the sons of one of the businessmen we dealt with. We were in town a couple of weeks, and the girls fell in love, and the boys asked me for their hands. Sighne was only sixteen, and I thought that too young to marry. The boys had plans of moving to Kansas to start a farm together. I didn’t like the idea of them living so far away. However, their mama said so long as Sighne and her husband would live close to Maja and her husband, it would be all right. Maja was twenty, and the girls were very close, so they married and moved to the Kansas Territory when it opened. They have good farms and are all very happy.” Despite his words, his expression grew sad. “I think Sarah just wanted to separate us. She resented our closeness.”

  “How terrible. For a mother not to want closeness in her family doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Ja, it’s hard to ponder, but it’s behind us now.” He forced a smile. “They have stayed close to me. They write often and tell me all about their families. Someday I want to visit them. Maybe take your grandmother too.”

  “I’ll bet she’d like that very much.” Kirstin tried to be as encouraging as possible, but she wanted him to continue the story. “So that left just you and your wife and Ilian?”

  “Ja. Ilian was only fourteen. He was already sympathetic to his mother and wanted very little to do with me unless it was to plead her case. But there were things he just didn’t understand and was too young to know.”

  “What kinds of things?” Kirstin blurted, then immediately regretted it. “I’m so sorry. I know that’s none of my business.”

  “There was always difficulty between Sarah and me. Not only was our marriage arranged, but Sarah loved another. She blamed me the rest of her life for tearing her away from her true love.”

  “Was that the real reason she wanted to go back to Sweden?”

  “Ja, I think so. She did love her sisters and wanted to be close to them, but her heart was consumed by her love for another.”

  Kirstin had warmed sufficiently and moved away from the stove, finally taking a seat. “That’s really hard to live with.”

  “Ja.” Habram focused his attention on sanding.

  “Does Ilian know this?”

  “No.” Habram stopped and turned to Kirstin. “I couldn’t tell him while his mother lived. When she died from whooping cough while he was in the war, then I thought finally I could tell him this. Tell him everything.”

  She wondered if Mr. Farstad would refuse her closeness, but she went to him anyway and touched his arm. “And did you? Is that why he wants nothing more to do with you?”

  “No.” Mr. Farstad’s blue eyes bored into her. “He never returned home to live
again. He told me I had killed his mother as surely as if I’d put a knife in her back.”

  Kirstin’s hand went to her mouth. She couldn’t imagine anyone being so heartless. How could Ilian ever think such a thing of his father?

  Habram gave her a sad smile. “He’s not a cruel person by nature,” he said, almost as if he’d read her mind. “He was just speaking from the pain he felt.”

  Kirstin lowered her hand. “I think it’s time you told him the truth. Tell him before he gets the casts off and can run away from hearing it. Whatever the truth is, it will be better for the telling.”

  In that moment she knew the answer to her own predicament. She didn’t want to betray Domar, but he was the one setting the rules regarding truth. Not her. She wanted her mother to know the truth so she could put her mind at ease—so she could ask Domar’s forgiveness for having blamed him falsely.

  “You have a funny look on your face. Are you all right?” Habram asked.

  Kirstin looked up and met his gaze. “I just realized in saying what I did to you that I have the answer to my own ordeal. The truth will set us free. Yes, it might hurt some, but it is always good to tell the truth and deal with the consequences, even when they aren’t of our own making.”

  Habram considered this for a moment. “Yes, but sometimes it isn’t our truth to tell.”

  This time it was Kirstin who took a moment to consider. “But when the person responsible for speaking that truth can’t or won’t . . . don’t we have an obligation to do so? When we know the truth and say nothing—let the lie live on—aren’t we lying as well?”

  Habram nodded. “You make a good point. I shall have to pray about this tonight.”

  Hoping he wouldn’t take offense, Kirstin hugged him. “You are like a grandfather to me, and I’ve come to care about you very much. Please know you always have a friend in me, Mr. Farstad.”

  “Call me Habram. I will consider you another of my granddaughters.”

  Kirstin smiled. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll call you Morfar.”