“You are just in time so we can start the meeting. Welcome, everyone,” she said, raising her voice. “Will you please get your coffee and take a chair so we can begin?”
Ingeborg glanced up to find Hildegunn staring at her. Haunted was the only word she could think of to describe the look in her eyes. Move! the voice in her head commanded in no uncertain terms. So she did. “Here, let me help you with that.” She took Hildegunn’s basket to set on the table. “It’s so terribly cold with that wind. Did you walk over?” Smiling over her shoulder, she saw Hildegunn close her eyes for just a moment. Surely those were tears she had blinked back. O Lord God, give me the right words.
“How else would I get here?” Hildegunn shook her head as she laid her coat on the mound. “Some of us do not have a team and sleigh, you know.”
“I’ll get your coffee.” Choosing to ignore the barb was definitely heavenly grace. It would be so easy to snap back. “I’ll set it on the table.”
As the fifteen women took their places in the circle of chairs, the hubbub calmed to a murmur. Kaaren patiently waited, her smile intact.
Ingeborg felt like she was off in a corner observing, even though she was sitting next to Anji with Rebecca on the other side.
Across the circle Amelia Jeffers smiled at Anji with a bit of a wave. “How are the children? Did your youngest get over the croup?”
“Ja, thanks to Astrid and the syrup Ingeborg has been making for so many years. I couldn’t find anything like it in Norway.”
“I know. Metiz taught me the basis and I added more ingredients.”
Anji smiled. “Speaking of Metiz makes me think of my mother. Coming back here has made me think of her even more.”
“You are the picture of her in those early years. Agnes Baard was the best friend anyone could have.” Ingeborg squeezed Anji’s hand. “I’m glad you are back here for always.”
“My, how our group has grown,” Sophie said as she took the chair beyond Rebecca. “We should be able to accomplish great things.”
“Uh-oh. Something gives me a feeling we are about to—”
“Let us pray.” Kaaren bowed her head and the others followed her actions.
Ingeborg settled herself, but her mind wanted to follow that conversation.
“Lord God, thank you for bringing us together to praise you this morning and to do your will. You promised to be right here with us, and we count on your presence to teach us, to mold us always into your family so that we may obey your command to love one another even as you have loved us. Father, we confess that we stray so easily from your Word. Controlling our minds and tongues is an ever-present duty, so please fill us with your spirit of love today and every day. Guide us on your path, we pray in Jesus’ precious name.” They all joined together on the amen.
She raised her head and smiled around the group. “Thank you for braving the cold. Yesterday I thought spring was almost here, but winter is surely blowing back today. We have a lot to accomplish, but let’s start with the Word. Penny, would you read our verses for today?”
Penny opened her Bible and stood. “Our lesson today is from First John 4, starting with verse 7: ‘Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God. . . .’”
Love. There it was again. Love for all, and that included Hildegunn. The Bible did not make easy demands.
Kaaren thanked her and nodded. “For those of you who are working so hard to learn English, Amelia, could you please simplify the first three verses?”
Ingeborg glanced across the circle when she heard a tongue clicking. Sure enough, Hildegunn was making her disapproval known.
Shades of Anner Valders. And it was so sad. Anner had considered anyone who did not speak fluent Norwegian to be a foreigner, including any Indians who might have lived in the Dakotas for centuries before Norwegians ever arrived. But he had mysteriously disappeared several months ago after losing his position at the bank because of his mistreatment of an immigrant. Packed a carpetbag and got on the train. Ingeborg had wondered once if Hildegunn actually had a problem with foreigners moving to Blessing or if she was simply parroting her husband’s opinion. Apparently it had become her opinion as well.
Amelia stood and repeated the verses slowly and clearly, then reworded them.
Several of the women smiled and nodded.
“Thank you, Amelia. Hopefully one of things we are doing here today is showing God’s love for each other and those who are blessed by our quilts and our sewing. Let’s get through our business as quickly as possible so that we can get to work. Hildegunn, will you read the letter we received from the tribal agency where we sent the girls’ clothes we sewed?”
Hildegunn nodded and unfolded the piece of paper.
“Dear Women of the Lutheran Church in Blessing, North Dakota,
Thank you for sending the warm dresses to our schoolgirls. For many who are new here, that was the first time they had something brand new of their own. They loved the bright colors, and thank you for putting deep hems in the skirts, as they are growing so fast.”
Hildegunn folded the paper. “They thanked us for the quilts we sent earlier too.”
“Thank you, Hildegunn. Sophie, you had something you wanted to say?”
“I do.” She paused while the whistle of the incoming train made it hard to hear, then continued. “I’ve been talking with doctors Elizabeth and Astrid, and they said that they could use more gowns at the hospital. We had sewed a stack of them before, and they are hoping we will do so again. As some of the sheets and bedding begin to wear out, they will give us the holey ones to use to create new gowns. The fabric, of course, is usually still pretty good around the edges. Are we willing to do that for them?”
“What about the quilts we have already started? Shouldn’t we finish those first?” Rebecca asked. “I think some of our townspeople still do not have warm enough bedding.”
“If only we had more wool batts.”
“I raised many sheep in Latvia, before we came in America,” one of the women said. “I make quilt battings out of the locks and thribs; you know, the short, coarse wool.”
Ingeborg nodded. “I purchased some sheep last fall when they were cheap and plan on buying more sheep if I can find them without going too far. Perhaps others might consider that too. I haven’t done any spinning for so long, and I miss it.”
“Oh, ja.” Mrs. Juris, the woman who had just spoken, nodded. “I too. Spinning is so peaceful, relaxing. I help you?”
“Ja. Perhaps others too?”
Another woman raised her hand. “I too.”
Kaaren interrupted. “Let us continue that discussion later. In the meantime, Penny, how many batts do you have in stock?”
“None, but I have some on order.”
Heavy footsteps caught their attention. They all looked at the stairs.
Anner Valders! The prodigal banker. Many gasped; others whispered. After all these months of silent absence, Anner Valders!
He came sweeping into the room, as imperious as ever. He didn’t even bother to take his hat off. He stared at his wife, no hint of a smile or a glance for any of the others, no word about where he had been all those months. “Mrs. Valders, come now! We are leaving.”
“But—”
“Now!” He barked the order and headed back up the stairs.
Ingeborg and Kaaren stared at each other, dumbstruck, then watched as Hildegunn stood, crossed to the pile of coats and hats, and picked hers up, sliding her arms into the sleeves as she mounted the stairs. Hildegunn Valders disappeared.
CHAPTER 2
I think we should have built a bigger house. Or at least a bigger kitchen.”
Miriam watched Trygve Knutson’s face as he glanced around the kitchen that was not even a year old yet. He wasn’t teasing.
They were sitting with their morning coffee at the kitchen table. He had added two new leaves so that all six of them could sit down for a meal together, since they did not have a table and chairs in the dining room yet. I
t so filled the kitchen, one could hardly get around. He wagged his head. “I should have built a huge kitchen like Tante Ingeborg’s.”
Sitting across from him, Mrs. Trygve Knutson grinned. “You forget that my family lived in a Chicago tenement that probably could have fit within this room. This is a huge house, and I love every bit of it. And the builder too.”
He laid his hand over hers as they smiled at each other across the huge table.
“There they are, at the moony stuff again,” Este, Miriam’s fifteen-year-old brother, announced over his shoulder as her siblings all charged into the room to eat before they headed for school. He’d recently shot up several inches, growing from an undersized boy to a tall and lanky young man. He folded himself up like a carpenter’s rule and perched at the end of the table.
Mercy, seventeen, had helped make breakfast before she went up to dress for school, a privilege now that they lived in Blessing. When she walked in with a blue ribbon holding her hair back, Este grinned at her.
“You look really pretty in that dress,” Joy, the second to youngest at age twelve, said with a smile.
“I like the blue ribbon.” Miriam set bowls of oatmeal on the table. No one in their family had been able to afford ribbons for a long time, so to see her sister in a blue dress with a matching ribbon made her smile all the way through. “Mercy, please bring the bowl of biscuits from up on the warming shelf.”
“I am.” Mercy patted Truth, their littlest sister at age ten, on the shoulder as she set the bowl on the table. “I’ll finish your dress tonight, so you will have something new too.”
“Will everyone please sit down so we can have grace?” Trygve asked, the twinkle still in his eyes.
Miriam felt her heart flip, sending a flutter clear to the top of her head. His smile always managed to do that to her, and instead of getting better, it was getting worse. And to think she tried to fend off her very persistent husband all those months before he finally convinced her that she could finish nurses’ training, marry him, and take care of her family all at the same time, or close to it. She brushed a hand over his shoulder on her way to her chair. Since she was off duty today, she could take time to enjoy this meal with them. The one thing she loved almost as much as Trygve and her brothers and sisters was her career as a nurse. It paid very little, but it was so rewarding.
“That wind sure is cold this morning,” Este said in between bites. “The chickens are all fluffed up.” It was his chore to feed the chickens that Miriam and Trygve had received as a wedding present.
“Wind here comes right down from the North Pole—no hills in the way, and probably hardly any fences to slow it down.” Trygve buttered and spread jam on a biscuit. “Sure wish we could convince Tonio to get out here. Daniel said he has room for one more in the training session for the machinists.” Her brother, staying behind in Chicago, was so stubborn. Wonder where he got that?
“He didn’t answer my letter yet either.” Mercy shook her head.
“Tonio doesn’t like to write letters much.” Joy picked up her bowl and put it in the steaming dishpan on the stove. “We need to leave in the next couple of minutes. We do not want to be late.” She went to the coat hooks that lined the hall and carried all the coats and scarves into the kitchen.
After she kissed them out the door, Miriam brought the coffeepot to the table and poured them each another cup. “How come you’re still sitting here? Is your crew not working today?” Trygve had taken over one of the construction crews working on the last of the three houses built for the immigrants.
“I have to go over the shipment coming in on the train.” He smiled at her. “It sure quieted down in here. What are you doing today?”
“I am going to work on the dresses I’m sewing for Joy and Mercy. Keeping them a surprise is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
The telephone on the wall by the doorway to the hall jangled their ring, so she went to answer it. Having telephone service back in town after the explosion was still a treat.
“Miriam, this is Deborah. You know that young woman you admitted last night?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m afraid it is pneumonia.”
“I figured.”
“You were right. She had a rough night. Do we have any contact information for her family?”
“I wrote out everything we know.”
“I saw your notes, but there is so little. I was just hoping there was more information. Was there any mention of a husband?”
Miriam tipped her head back to think. “A man brought her in and left immediately. He went out the door before I realized he was leaving. Other than that, no, I don’t think so. Why?”
“Older man, younger, what?”
She shrugged, even though Nurse Deborah couldn’t see her. “He was all bundled up. You know how chilly it was.”
“Well, I think she might be pregnant, and I thought someone else might know more.”
Miriam bit her lip. “I know she is emaciated and dehydrated. I started pushing fluids. Do you need me to come in?”
“No, you need your days off. I’ll talk with you later.”
Miriam hung the earpiece back on the hook and turned to find Trygve shrugging into his coat.
“Everything all right?” He reached for his hat.
“I have no idea.” Briefly she told him what she’d learned.
“Thorliff knows all the farmers in the area. Talk to him. What did you say her name was?”
“I have no idea.” Miriam picked up the remaining cups and plates and slid them into the steaming water. “Now my curiosity is in full raging force. Looks like a mystery here.” Actually it sounded more like something they might have seen in Chicago rather than here in quiet North Dakota. Young women often turned up on the doorstep there without much help or family history. But then perhaps she was borrowing trouble, something Ingeborg kept warning her not to do.
After saying good-bye to Trygve and finishing the dishes, she brought a venison haunch from the icebox and put it in a big roasting pan. She chopped some onions, added salt and pepper, and added some steaming water from the teakettle before sliding the whole thing into the oven. Bless Este’s heart. He had also filled the woodbox. Humming a hymn from the Sunday service a couple days ago, she set her kitchen back to rights, lowered the damper so the roast would cook slowly all day, and headed to the sewing room upstairs. It was a good thing Trygve had gone ahead with the two-story house from Sears instead of the story and a half he’d originally planned. And here he thought it was already too small.
Just thinking about him made her smile. She realized she was smiling a lot these days. She set the flat irons on the stove to heat and fetched the ironing board to have it ready when she needed to press her seams flat. She looked fondly at her sewing machine, a wedding present from her dear husband. One time she must have mentioned how she loved sewing on Ingeborg’s sewing machine, and when she returned from Chicago, she found it set up right in front of the window, exactly where she would have wanted it.
She lifted down the royal-blue serge out of the box she kept up on the shelf in the closet, along with the other dresses she was making. Since she could only sew on her days off, she wanted to make good use of her time. She’d never sewn pin tucks on a machine, but it went well. If only her mother had had such a fine machine. Of course that thought triggered others, and one tear opened the dam for more. She dug her handkerchief out of her apron pocket and mopped her eyes quickly so as not to drip on the dress.
On Sunday, when she’d been talking with Ingeborg and Kaaren after church, she could tell Ingeborg had been crying during the service. “Some days are still just harder than others, and church seems to be where I cry the most easily,” Ingeborg had said.
“I thought the tears would be gone by now. After all, it’s been well over a year since my mother died.” Miriam sniffed when Kaaren put an arm around her shoulders.
“I found myself crying the other day for no reason,
or so it seemed.” Kaaren slid her arm through Miriam’s. “And then I started a mental list of all those who have gone on before me and I realized I was grieving that winter when Carl and our two little girls died.”
Ingeborg had nodded. “I still call that time the Black Pit. I do not want to ever go that way again. Sometimes, like after Haakan died, it would be so easy to get sucked back in, but I keep thanking God that He keeps me from the edge.” Ingeborg wore a faraway look. “This winter has been hard. Sometimes I still miss him so much.”
“But you keep on going. I have a feeling most of us have no idea how hard it’s been. You always seem so at peace.”
“Peace and pain can visit at the same time.”
Miriam brought herself back to the present and, pinning the pieces of the rounded collar together, set her feet on the treadle, and the machine began stitching evenly around the collar. She clipped the seam, rolled the collar to the right side, and finger-pressed the edges. Digging into the box where she kept trims, she pulled out a narrow band of white lace and, easing around the corners, stitched it to the collar. Then needing to press that, she started on the sleeves. She had learned to get as many pieces as possible ready for the irons, since the sewing room was upstairs and the stove downstairs. At least this way, she could shut off the room if she needed to hide things. The problem was her sisters liked to use the machine too. That was why she had to hide any presents she was making.
When she had the sleeves ready to press, along with the bodice, she gathered her pieces and started for the stairs.
“Miriam, you home?” Trygve must have come home for something.
“Coming right down. Add some wood to the stove, would you please?” She heard the clang of the lids being lifted off just as her foot hit the floor. Surely it wasn’t dinner time already. “Are you all right?” She entered the kitchen and stopped. Her mouth dropped open, but she could say nothing.
Tonio!
She threw herself at the young man standing by the stove. “Tonio!”
He grabbed her and hugged like he’d never let go. “Did I surprise you?”
Streams of Mercy Page 2