No Distance Too Far

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Thank you for a good dinner,” he said when they finished.

  “You are welcome.” The words seemed to be dragged from a deep well.

  “I need to go see to my horse.” Joshua moved toward the door.

  “You are coming back in, are you not?” Frank asked.

  “Yes. Can I put him in the barn?”

  “Yes. We still have horses. I left them in today because of the cold.”

  The huge barn seemed empty, with spiderwebs on the milking stanchions, the floors swept clean. He led his horse into a vacant stall, removed the saddle and bridle, and snapped the halter, attached to a tied lead rope, on the horse’s head. Tossing the animal some hay, he returned to the house. It didn’t seem that cold to him, but then, he was used to North Dakota now, not Iowa.

  He paused on the porch. Lord, what am I to do? The verses about seeking the man who has done you wrong floated to the front of his mind. “Well, I am doing that, so I might as well be about it.” He scrubbed his boots free of snow on the brush by the door and stepped back inside.

  He sniffed appreciatively. “Something smells good.”

  “I’m making a spice cake. You will stay for supper, won’t you?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I need to talk with Frank and Pa, and we’ll see how that goes.” He paused a moment. “Can Pa hear?”

  “Yes, he just can’t speak. Was struck down by apoplexy a month or so after your mother died. God rest her soul.”

  “And Pa?”

  “He’s fading away day by day. He would just sit in that chair from dawn to dusk if Frank didn’t take care of him. No will to live. Seems like the part of his brain that willed him to work died.”

  “So I can talk to him?”

  “Yes. He may respond, or he may not. You saw him at the table. He feeds himself if the food is put before him. He sat out on the porch before it got too cold. I think the shock of finding your mother dead on the floor might have started this, but I don’t know. Doctors don’t know.”

  “Why did no one write to me?”

  “Frank said he was done with writing bad news.”

  “I see.” He didn’t but couldn’t figure what else to say. He walked into the parlor, where his father sat in a rocking chair, an afghan over his legs, staring outside. Frank sat in another chair reading a farm magazine.

  “I have something I need to talk to you about, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said to Frank. “Pa too.”

  Frank put the magazine down on the table beside the chair. “I’ll come over there.”

  Joshua swallowed, feeling his heart pick up speed. Frank set a chair down and went for another. When the three of them sat, Joshua leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him. He hoped his heart wasn’t going to jump right out of his chest. “I come to ask for your forgiveness.”

  His father’s eyes widened slightly.

  Frank stared at him, shock blinking his eyes. “For what?”

  “For the way I left here so angry and never wrote, never came back. Rage and hate are terrible sins. So will you please forgive me?” He stuttered on the last words. He looked to his father, who was slowly nodding. A tear leaked out of one eye and ran down his cheek.

  He looked to Frank. He was shaking his head. “I never realized . . .” He stared at his brother. “Of course I forgive you. That’s what brothers do. Can you forgive me?”

  Joshua nodded. “I did some time ago. That’s why I was able to come.”

  Frank reached for Joshua’s hand on one side and his father’s on the other. “I wish Aaron was here. He’ll be glad to know you came.”

  Joshua reached for his father’s hand and held it. The last time he remembered holding his father’s hand was when he was a young boy.

  Joshua sat up on his bed at the boardinghouse and turned both his hands over to look at the palms. He’d held his father’s hand and felt nothing but love. How could that be? He would never understand, but returning to Blessing had not been easy. The only question remaining was why had he waited so long. If he was wrong about Astrid, was this God’s way of showing him it was time to return to Iowa for keeps?

  5

  Why did she feel this sense of dread?

  “What’s bothering you?” Haakan asked his wife, his voice gentle in the predawn darkness.

  “The quilters meeting today.”

  “You don’t have to go, you know.” As they lay on their backs, he took her hand, holding it between them, his thumb rubbing the back of hers.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I know. So what is the problem at quilters?”

  “The request from Astrid that we send a wagonload of supplies to the Rosebud Indian Reservation. The discussion was heating up last month, so we tabled it for people to pray about. I told you about that.”

  “So why worry? Perhaps God will have sent a spirit of unity like you prayed for.”

  “I did ask for that, didn’t I?” Was that a heavenly chuckle she heard or the wind?

  “What else is bothering you?”

  She rolled onto her side and laid her cheek on his shoulder. “I want Astrid to come home, not go to Africa. I know that is a selfish prayer, but I just can’t seem to let it go. You’d think I’d trust God’s will in this, but so far I can’t. I just want her to come back here.”

  “I imagine when God asked Abraham to lay his son on the altar, he most likely felt the same way. After all, it was his only son. And he even thought God was asking him to kill his son. That’s what they did with sacrifices. You know the story. And step by step Abraham went ahead.”

  “But what if I never see her alive again?” She heard him inhale deeply. “I left Norway, and I never saw my mother again. Astrid will go to Africa, and we’ll never see her again.”

  “Then we’ll see her in heaven.”

  Ingeborg fought the tears but gave up and soaked the shoulder of her husband’s long underwear. “That’s not enough,” she sobbed.

  “Hush. It will be all right.” His voice shook as he tried to comfort her.

  Ingeborg felt the covers lift behind her back and a small body crawl into the bed. Emmy snuggled up behind her, and a little hand patted her shoulder.

  “Gamma, no cry.” The patting continued. “Pease, no cry.”

  Ingeborg’s tears stopped. She raised her head. “Emmy can talk!”

  Haakan’s soft chuckle floated through the darkness. “I knew one day she would.”

  Ingeborg rolled over and gathered the little girl into her arms, feeling Haakan’s strong arm surrounding them. “All right, Emmy, Gamma no cry. Gamma kiss you instead.” And she did. All the while, her thank-yous danced heavenward. Emmy can talk. Thank you, Father. Emmy can talk.

  “COME, FREDA,” INGEBORG said to her cousin later that morning. “Come to the quilting with me. You need to get out and be with our neighbors more.”

  “No, thank you. You go. Me and Emmy are going to the cheese house. I need to wax a couple of wheels, and I’m experimenting with something.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

  Sometimes I wonder whose cheese house it is, Ingeborg thought as she gathered her sewing things. “Will you help me carry the machine out to the buggy?”

  “Sure. I have the stack of squares I stitched together. Didn’t get the long strips sewn together, though. Should make a top right quick.”

  “I just don’t understand why you won’t come.” Ingeborg picked up one end of the treadle sewing machine cabinet and walked backward when her cousin took the other.

  “Ingeborg, I’m just not cut out for meetings and such.” When she got a bit upset her strong Norwegian accent grew even heavier. Something like the sewing machine they carried. Usually Haakan and Andrew carried it out, but she’d forgotten to ask them. When they got to the steps, Haakan hollered at them to wait.

  With a guilty sigh Ingeborg did just that. Much as she hated to admit it, hauling the machine t
o the sleigh in the winter wasn’t something she’d wanted to do.

  “Why didn’t you ask?” Haakan said.

  “I forgot.”

  “So did I.” He and Freda settled it into the back seat of the sleigh. “There now. Anything else?”

  “That basket on the table and the soup kettle. I need to tie the lid down on that.”

  “You picking up Kaaren?”

  “Ja, and Anna.” This was the first time for Anna. She’d been almost as stubborn as her mother-in-law.

  “Then you can all three sit in front.”

  Back in the house she tied a dish towel from the handles and over the top of the deep kettle and stepped back for Haakan to pick it up. “And you could pray I keep my mouth shut today.”

  Haakan winked at her. “Now why would I want to do that?”

  Ingeborg bent down to kiss Emmy. “Bye. You be good for Tante Freda.”

  Emmy nodded, clutching her doll to her chest, her cough still not all gone.

  I should have let her go to school today. Ingeborg thought again of taking her along, but Inga had a cold and was staying home with Thelma. Andrew and Ellie’s two little ones both had runny noses, and Emmy didn’t know the other children. Now that she had spoken— not that she’d said anything else today—at least there was hope they’d learn more about her. Interesting how she’d picked up the language from Inga. No one else called her Gamma. Or maybe she already learned English from someone else. Hmm.

  When she reached the front of the Knutsons’ house, Ingeborg hallooed from the sleigh, and the two women came out. The way the snow was melting, they’d soon be back to wheels. Spring couldn’t come soon enough for her.

  Kaaren nestled her soup kettle on the floor and set her baskets on the back seat, as Ingeborg had.

  “Are you sure there is room for me?” Anna asked.

  “We can squeeze into the front.” Ingeborg sniffed. “You can smell spring in the air.”

  “If I don’t get going on the spring cleaning, we won’t be done by Easter.” Kaaren waited for Anna to get in first, then climbed in and tucked the blanket around them. “We don’t really need this today, warm as it is.”

  “Freda and I started on the upstairs yesterday. Scrubbing walls has never been one of my favorite things to do, but everything clean again feels so good.”

  “Well, into the lion’s den,” Ingeborg muttered for Kaaren’s ears only when they arrived at the church and started to unload the sleigh. They set their pots of soup on the stove, and Ingeborg held open the door for Anna and Kaaren to bring in the sewing machine. As often as the sewing machines were hauled in and out, they should have bought one for the church.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you the news. Emmy can talk.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said, ‘Gamma, don’t cry. Pease don’t cry.’ ”

  “And the reason for the tears?”

  “Not important, but isn’t that grand?”

  “It is.” Kaaren studied her. “If it makes you cry, it’s important. Now, what brought it on?”

  “Astrid. The thought of never seeing her again.”

  “Isn’t that kind of borrowing trouble? If she goes, it will only be for two years. That’s what her letter said.”

  “I know. But you know how easy it is to not make sense in the middle of the night.” Together they returned to the church and set their sewing baskets on the tables that were already set up. Hildegunn took seriously her responsibility to prepare for the day. This was the first year she’d not been president in a long time, so she’d taken over the quilting preparations.

  “Good morning, everybody,” Sophie trilled as she burst through the doorway. “Guess what?”

  They all turned to look. “What?”

  “Remember Mr. Jeffers?”

  “Who could forget him? That scum.”

  “No, no. The real Mr. Jeffers, the young man who came looking for his father.” She set her basket on the table. “He checked into the boardinghouse after yesterday’s train. He’s over talking with Thorliff today. I’m so curious, I’m about to burst.”

  “Leave it to Sophie,” Ingeborg said sotto voce.

  “Did you ask him anything?”

  “How could I? I didn’t know he was there until I checked the register this morning.” She unbuttoned her coat and laid it on the collection. “There’s a fascinating story in there somewhere. I just know there is. Where are the things we are collecting for the reservation?”

  Silence hit the room like a lead blanket.

  She looked around. “What? What did I do now?”

  “We have not made that decision yet.” Hildegunn Valders straightened her shoulders, causing her considerable bosom to expand.

  “Sorry.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “I forgot there was dissension about this. We all know it is the right thing to do, so let’s just go ahead with it.”

  Mary Martha tapped her coffee cup for attention. “Let’s get seated, shall we, ladies, so we can get started with our meeting.”

  Sophie stopped by her mother. “Gracious, you’d have thought I let a skunk loose in here the way the noses went up.”

  “Hush.” Kaaren never had been able to keep ahead of Sophie, but her half-hidden grin said how much she didn’t care this time.

  Ingeborg kept her face straight but knew it was perilous. At least Sophie was taking the onus off her. And Sophie couldn’t care less what Hildegunn thought. Maybe that was the best way to deal with a stubborn woman who wanted to rule the group and always felt she knew best.

  “Is Ellie coming today?” Sophie asked Ingeborg as they sat down.

  “No, she didn’t want to bring the children. Carl is ill again.” Earlier in the winter he’d had a bout with croup, and they weren’t taking a chance on it happening again.

  “I’m glad Helga comes to our house to watch the children. I’d hate to bundle them all up to come. I tried to talk Maydell into coming, but she says she dislikes sewing about as much as cleaning the slop pail.”

  “Sophie!”

  “Well, that’s what she said.” Sophie shrugged. “And Rebecca spends every morning helping Benny catch up so he can go to school.”

  “Ladies.”

  They turned to face forward.

  “Let us open by standing and singing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers,’ ” Mary Martha said. “I’m sorry, but Elizabeth telephoned to say she could not come due to a waiting room full of sick people.”

  “All she has to do is hang out the Closed sign.”

  Mary Martha started the first line, and they all joined in. She led them in prayer after that, and then everyone sat.

  “We’ll start with announcements. The fourth Saturday of this month we will be cleaning the church to be ready for Easter. The more people who show up, the sooner we’ll get finished. We are starting at nine o’clock, and dinner will be potluck. Bring cleaning supplies.” She looked up from her paper. “Does anyone have anything to add to that?”

  “Bring ladders too so we can clean the gutters and dust the ceiling and rafters,” Hildegunn added.

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “We have here a thank-you note from Maydell. ‘Dear church women, thank you for the lovely wedding gift. The quilt you made looks so pretty on our bed. Thank you too for the presents for the housewarming. You all make such pretty towels and linens and things. And we really needed a new broom. Sincerely, Mr. and Mrs. Gus Baard.’ ”

  “Time we get going on another one. You never know when these young folks are going to take a shine to one another.”

  “Seems a shame more of our young women don’t come to quilting.”

  Ingeborg knew it was Hildegunn speaking, but she didn’t turn around. Ignore her, she commanded herself. Let someone else stick up for those not here. When no one did, Mary Martha continued.

  “We’ll move on to old business, then. Our first topic is the wagon of supplies for the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. We’ve had some discussion in the past, but to
day we will be bringing this to a vote. I was hoping we could all agree, but since that doesn’t seem possible, we will vote, and like all other votes in our great country, the majority will rule. I pray that those not happy with the decision will gracefully accept the will of the group.” She glanced around. “Is there any more discussion?”

  Mrs. Magron raised her hand. “Yes, I have a question. If we help this new Indian reservation, how will we have enough to help those we usually provide assistance for?”

  “That is a good question, and one I know concerns us all.”

  Sophie raised her hand. “I asked Thorliff if he could talk with the Indian agent up north and see what their needs are.”

  “And what did he find out?”

  “The agent said the government has been providing according to their agreement this year. Since the new agent took over, the supplies have been getting through, so the people are not starving to death like they were before. He said they need more school supplies and will need more seeds for planting gardens and fields come spring. He has convinced more of the families to take up farming practices to help feed themselves.”

  “That is wonderful.”

  “Did he say anything about sickness?” Ingeborg asked.

  Sophie shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Thank you for following through on that. Anything else?” She glanced around the room. “Then I will call for a raising of hands. How many agree that we should assist the reservation that Astrid asked donations for?” She nodded and counted. “And against?” She nodded and counted again. “The majority rules. We will be collecting provisions for the Rosebud Indian Reservation. Who would like to be in charge of writing to them to see what supplies are needed most desperately?”

  Kaaren raised her hand. “I will.”

  Ingeborg breathed a sigh of relief. Now she didn’t have to. Her volunteering would have roiled the waters for sure. A humph from behind her made another woman’s position quite clear.

  “Is there any other business we need to address today?” Mary Martha waited a moment. “Good, then we can begin our quilting.”