Streams of Mercy

by Lauraine Snelling

  “What are you . . . ooh!” She grinned up at him, this dear thoughtful man. “Fresh strawberries!”

  “Ma sent them over. She remembered how you like these.” He handed her the bowl.

  Astrid popped one in her mouth and closed her eyes in bliss. “You have no idea how much I wanted to go pick strawberries.”

  Love leaked out of his eyes and washed over her. “How are your patients?” he asked softly, never taking his eyes off her.

  “Thorliff is improving slowly. Inga does not have diphtheria, and I have a better feeling about Johnny. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s not worse.”

  “Good. I’ll get out of here then before you kick me out. Thank you for lifting the curfew. Blessing is coming back to life.”

  “Thank you, and thank Amelia for me too. Such a good gift to start this day.” She watched him turn and walk from the room, waving at Mrs. Geddick. Did that woman never sleep?

  Anji crossed the dew-bathed grass to sit on the bench set by the garden. This and the swing on the porch had become her favorite places to ponder. How could she miss Thomas already? He’d not been gone that long. He’d said he had to spend two weeks at the church that was interested in having him. Two weeks did not include the travel time. The town was somewhere east of Chicago, she believed. He probably wasn’t even there yet.

  Yet she felt like a cloud sat right on her. At their parting, she had agreed to think about whether she loved him and if so, how much. He said that he thought he loved her. Apparently his emotions were even more tangled up than hers. She had loved before, but he had not.

  What if he really did need to leave Blessing? Did he have to agree to accept the call? If they wanted him, that is. How could anyone not want him?

  Questions, questions, and no answers.

  She heard the children in the house, the sounds floating out through the open window to her. The curfew was lifted. She would telephone Ingeborg and ask if they could come out to the farm to see the new calves and to see Emmy. She wondered if Benny might like to go too. She stood and stretched. When one needed wisdom, one talked with Ingeborg. Freda answered the ring.

  “Good morning, can I talk with Ingeborg?”

  “If you call Thorliff’s, you can. She is helping with Inga, who has the croup, but not diphtheria.”

  “Oh, I see. I thought to bring the children out to play on the farm and—and talk with her.”

  “Call her there.” That was Freda, abrupt as always.

  “I will, takk.” She had just turned to announce to her children that there would be no farm trip today when her ring sounded.

  Sophie was calling. “Sure, put her through. Good morning, Sophie.”

  “We need to celebrate the lifting of the quarantine. How about you and the children come here for coffee? They can play while we catch up. We’re taking cookies out of the oven right now. Rebecca is coming, and Penny. They can’t stay long, so hurry up.”

  “You mean right now?”

  “Ja, right now.”

  “We are on our way out the door.” She hung up. “Melissa, please comb Annika’s hair. Joseph, you have jam on your face. Hurry, we are invited to Sophie’s for coffee.”

  Benny was waiting for them in his wheeled cart outside on the street. “Ma is coming in a minute.”

  When they’d all arrived, the children happily playing out in the yard, the women made themselves comfortable on the porch, Sophie dropping into her chair with a grin. “I have so missed all of you . . .” She flung her arms out. “Everybody.”

  “At least you could go to the boardinghouse.”

  “Ja, and I watched everyone who came in like a starving hawk. Only I was looking for sickness. If anyone had coughed, I’d have banished him. I don’t even trust the train bringing in people and supplies. Not that many stopped once they knew we were under quarantine. I am sure that if we got ahold of that crook, Stetler . . .” She glowered, then made an effort to regain her happy mood. “But like Reverend Solberg says, ‘That is in the past and you can’t change the past.’ I do hope we’ve learned some lessons.” She slapped the arm of the chair. “There I’ve done it again. Sorry.” Blinking, she looked to the others. “I still cannot believe she has gone.”

  “I am so tired of the tears,” Anji whispered, wiping the tears away.

  “We all are. So let’s cry and get it over with. I have learned that the tears give up eventually, and now we are gathered to be grateful we can finally do this again. Ingeborg said for us all to have a good time—she is taking care of croupy Inga—and to rejoice that it is not diphtheria.” She shuddered. “I hate even saying the word. Like it might come creeping back out of some corner where it is hiding.”

  The others murmured agreement, sighed, and nodded.

  Rebecca shook her shoulders and looked to Anji. “Tell us the latest installment.”

  “Becca!”

  “We all need a touch of romance to lighten things up.”

  “Here you go, ladies.” Helga, Sophie’s sister-in-law and her lifesaver, as she referred to her, set a tray of cookies and glasses on the table. “Strawberry swizzle, first of the season. Help yourselves, and I’ll be right back with the children’s.”

  “Then sit down and join us,” Sophie told her firmly. “Anything else that needs doing can wait.” She turned to Anji. “So? You can drink and talk too.”

  Oh, how good it felt to laugh. Anji reached for a glass of swizzle, putting off an answer. She could feel her face heating up. Then, like reciting a lesson, she said, “Mr. Devlin . . .” Rebecca shook her head. “All right, Thomas received a letter from an Anglican parish, St. Patrick’s on the Water, or something like that, in Michigan. They asked him to come visit and interview with them, possibly to become their pastor. Priest.”

  “Michigan? That’s far away.” Sophie stared at her. “You can’t go to Michigan! You finally came back to Blessing.”

  “Thanks, Sophie. That is part of the problem.”

  “Do you love him?” Sophie gave her the piercing look that made even carousing drummers at her boardinghouse settle down.

  Anji twisted her napkin, smoothed it out on her knee, and looked up to see all eyes staring at her. “I . . . I don’t know. I mean, I care for him a great deal, but do I love him enough to change my life around all over again? I did that before . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t see myself as a minister’s wife. I don’t really want to leave Blessing and my family again.” She smiled at Rebecca. “But . . .”

  “Aha. I knew it.” Sophie bobbed her head. “I left Blessing all those years ago, and I was never so glad as to get back.” She cocked her head. “Of course, my husband dying out on that fishing boat was awful. But I am grateful I could come home.” She passed the cookie plate to Rebecca. “But if you love the man and this is what God wants for you, I guess we could wave good-bye to you. Devlin is a fine man and I, for one, hope he decides to stay here. Where he belongs.”

  “Yay, Sophie.” Rebecca raised her glass. “You said it better than I could have.”

  “I was hoping to talk with Ingeborg today, but I will later. She always helps me think right.”

  “She helps all of us think right. Between her and my mor, we have much to live up to.”

  “I wish Astrid were here.” Rebecca nibbled on her cookie. “She sure needs time away from that hospital. We never get to have our girls-together parties anymore. Did we outgrow them?” She looked out over the children to see her little son, Mark, chewing on a twig. “Be right back.” She charged down the steps, grabbed him up, and took away his toy. He looked at her, his face starting to wrinkle up in the beginnings of a righteous howl. “Benny, could you give your brother a ride in your wagon for a bit?”

  He smiled up at her. “Sure, come on.”

  “I’ll pull.” Joseph ran over to the wagon.

  “Me too.” And the children made her little son smile again.

  “Thank you, all.”

  “A squall averted.” Sophie grinned at R
ebecca as she came back up the stairs. “You sure move fast for one of our advanced age.”

  Grateful the attention was off her, Anji sipped from her glass. What am I going to do? I have no idea. Thomas said he’d write . . .

  The telephone jangling caught their attention. Sophie rose to answer it, shaking her head. “There better not be a crisis at the boardinghouse. I am fresh out of prepared-for-another-crisis.” She returned a short time later. “That was Astrid. Thorliff is indeed better, but now the big concern is what she thinks is a partial paralysis on his right side. It is affecting his arm the most. Ingeborg is going to be giving lessons on how to help him regain his strength. She is hoping some of us can come to help.” She stared at Anji.

  Maybe there is something more I can do for Thorliff after all. Anji nodded back. “When?”

  CHAPTER 30

  What has gotten into you? Thorliff Bjorklund, you do not seem to be even trying!

  “How is it going, Anji?” Ingeborg asked, stopping beside her in room one. Together they studied the man, breathing hard from the exercises, but unwilling to even look at them. The never-ending cough struck him again. But when he tried to raise his right arm, it would go no higher than a couple of inches off the bed. His groan shredded Anji’s heart. At least his eyes looked a little more alive, even if it was now anger that sparked them. She followed Ingeborg out of the room.

  “This is the second round today. It’s been a week now. Shouldn’t we see some improvement?”

  “There is slight improvement, more with his leg than his arm. I’m beginning to wonder if this has affected his brain too. It would make sense, since the brain controls the motor functions. As soon as he can walk with a cane, I think we can move him home. That might help his mind too.”

  Anji flinched when they heard him coughing again. “He can sit on the edge of the bed, so at least he has full use of his left side.” Her heart ached to see this man, usually so vital and pleasant, now barely civil.

  “That cough is typical for a long time after diphtheria, so I read in one of Astrid’s medical books. All we can do there is give him cough syrup with plenty of honey to soothe his throat. And keep up with the massage and movements. They will help strengthen him.”

  “I will be back tomorrow then, if you are sure I am helping.”

  “You are.” Ingeborg walked out the door of the hospital with her. “How I love summer. The strawberries are slowing down, but the raspberries will be ready soon.”

  Anji stopped at the post office to see about the mail. A letter in her box. She pulled it out, fully expecting her mother-in-law’s flowing penmanship. Instead, the handwriting was very masculine. Thomas wrote to her! She was beginning to think he’d forgotten. Without waiting to get home, she worked her fingernail under the edge and pulled out his letter.

  Dear Anji,

  As you no doubt have realized, I arrived here safely and have been made to feel very welcome. The town is smaller than Blessing, a hamlet, really, and my parish duties will include a second church, seven miles away. The people are mostly fishermen or farmers, mostly dairy and some orchards, and friendly. They have been without a priest for nearly a year and are very appreciative that I came to meet them.

  It has been so long since I preached a homily, that is, a sermon, I wasn’t sure I would remember how. I have met most of the families in the larger church, and the rectory, as they call the house where their priest has lived, is right next door. It is a good-sized house that is in need of some work. The former priest had been ailing for some time.

  This next Sunday I will preach at both churches, first here in the morning and the other one in the afternoon.

  I was so grateful to hear from John that Johnny lives. I know I asked you to write, but I will be home before it could get here. I will not make my final decision regarding this call until you and I can talk again.

  Sincerely,

  Thomas Devlin

  Anji stared at the sheet in her hand. Rather a businesslike letter. She had no idea if he was excited about going there or would rather be in Blessing—with her. Tomorrow was Sunday, so he should be back by Wednesday or Thursday. That meant she would have to make up her mind what she wanted to do.

  What she wanted to do was stay right here in Blessing, and after a time of courting, after all, that is what he asked her agreement for, marry Thomas Devlin and live happily ever after in this house she now called home. She wanted her children to call him Pa, and maybe they would even have a baby of their own. Turning into the gate, she shut it behind her and grinned when she heard her youngest’s voice.

  “Ma! You finally came home!” Annika charged to greet her, hugged her hard, then grinned up at her. “Did you bring ice cream?”

  “Sorry, not today. Were you good for Mercy?”

  “Ma, I am always good.” She swung her mother’s hand as they mounted the steps. “We baked cookies to go with ice cream.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Joseph is with Benny, Lissa is upstairs reading, and I don’t know where Gilbert is. I could have his ice cream.”

  “You don’t give up, do you. Sure smells good in here.” She removed her straw hat and hooked it on the coat tree.

  At the supper table that evening, she looked to the other end and in her mind could see Thomas sitting there, like he had the one time. How easy it was to see him everywhere.

  But Thorliff needs you. It wasn’t the first time that thought had come to rest in her mind. You can’t leave Blessing. He needs you desperately, even though he does not realize his need. But I’ve just realized how much I love Thomas. Oh, how I hope he will remain in Blessing. I don’t want to pick my children up and move again. Lord, how am I going to know what you want me to do?

  “Ma, are you all right?” Melissa asked, staring at her intently.

  Anji jerked her mind back to the moment. “Sorry. Now, where were we?”

  “I said grace.” Gilbert wrinkled his forehead, always her worrier.

  “And we passed you the food.” Annika pointed to the bowls beside her.

  “And I want to eat too,” Joseph added from her right side.

  Anji shook her head. “Just a lot on my mind.” She dished up the chicken and rice and passed it on to her son. “Now, did you get those rows weeded in the garden?”

  They all nodded. “We planted the rest of the beans. We sure are going to have a lot of beans.” Gilbert dug into the food piled high on his plate.

  “We’ll can and then dry some too. The way you are all growing, we’ll use a lot of beans. How about tomorrow, when I get back from the hospital, we pick up Inga and go see Grandma Ingeborg.”

  “Can Benny come too?”

  “Why not?”

  On Monday, when she was massaging Thorliff’s arm and hand, she straightened his fingers one at a time. “All right, now push back. Harder. Come on, push.”

  “I am pushing!”

  “I know. Now flex. Good again. Push.” She glanced from his fingers to his face and returned a smile for his glare. “Your mor assured me she can see improvement. So we will keep working. You know you could use your left hand to do the same things I am doing with your fingers. Will you do that?”

  “I already am.”

  “Good.” She stepped back. “Now sit up straight and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.” She watched him struggle with the right arm not responding and a horribly weakened body, but he sat up, using his left leg to push the other over the edge. How much easier it would be to assist him.

  “It would help to have a bar to pull up on.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Put a hook up there, ropes down, knotted to a bar. Tell Trygve I want to see him.”

  Out on the back porch at Ingeborg’s, after the children all headed for the barn and the calves, Anji told her what had happened.

  Ingeborg nodded, her smile widening. “Of course, perfect. And did you tell Trygve?”

  “I did. I imagine it will be in place by tomorrow.” Anji leaned back against the
cushions of the wicker chair. “I have a problem and I need your advice.”

  “I hope I have some.”

  “Thomas wrote about the church in Michigan. He said he would not tell them his decision until he and I talked. I know he is going to ask me to marry him and move to that place.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I do, but . . .”

  “But?”

  “I want him to stay here. He can teach school and build things, and there is always lots of work here in the summer. My home and family are here. I don’t want to uproot my children again.”

  Ingeborg studied her. “His calling is to be a parish priest. What is yours?”

  “I . . .” She paused. “I think Thorliff will need help both to get well and to handle the paper. I can do those things for him. You know how I loved him and he loved me. Who better to help him now?”

  A herd of noisy children swarmed up. “Ma, come see the calves and the baby kittens and the lambs and . . .” Joseph’s words tumbled over each other. “And there are baby pigs too, and the mama is really grouchy.” Annika came running up beside him.

  “You didn’t try to catch her babies, did you?”

  Annika shook her head, setting her pigtails to bouncing. “No, Inga said no. Emmy did too. Benny laughed when I fell in the mud puddle.” She lifted her pinafore skirt. “Stinky, like the pigs.”

  “How did you happen to fall in a puddle?”

  Joseph said breathlessly, “The mama pig jumped at us and banged into the fence!”

  Annika completed it. “And I runned.”

  “I see. You all sit on the steps. Freda has lemonade and cookies.” Ingeborg started to rise, but Anji laid a hand on her arm. “I’ll help.”

  The noisy, happy gang had their treat, then swarmed off again.

  Ingeborg watched them. “They do enjoy this area. Are there farms in that part of Michigan?”

  “Thomas mentioned that it was rural. I assume so. But not like here. There are none like here.”

  The silence between them started to grow heavy. Not unpleasant. Just heavy. Calling kept going through Anji’s head. Thomas’s calling, and hers.