From This Day Forward

by Lauraine Snelling

  Ma called from the kitchen, “Sorry I didn’t mention boots this morning.”

  “I saw enough blue for Dutchmen’s britches in the western sky. Glad we weren’t needing to take the wagon anywhere.” Deborah shivered in spite of her shawl. “I’m going to change clothes right now.”

  “Good idea. Oh, Rebecca called to say that Benny is home and he can’t wait to see you and Toby.”

  “To gloat, you mean?” Deborah stopped in the archway to the kitchen.

  “Ah, never doubt the power of we Blessing women when we start on a mission.” Mary Martha handed her a biscuit left over from dinner. “Here, to hold you over.”

  “Where is everybody? The house is never this quiet.”

  “John put them to work out in the barn to get the haymow swept and manure cleaned out. I’m sure that rooster is giving them a beakful.”

  “Thank you.” Nibbling the biscuit and honey, Deborah meandered down the hall to her bedroom.

  After hanging her skirt to drip in the bathroom, she pulled her blue dimity dress from the chifforobe and held it in front of her to stare in the long mirror on the bedroom door. Shaking her head, she hung it up and pulled out the navy-and-white-gingham one. What to wear? Silly, you never have this problem. It’s not like you’re going to a dance or something. She shivered in spite of wearing her wrap and glanced at the closed window. Leave it to Ma to remember these things. But she still felt a draft around her shoulders.

  “Oh, for—” She jerked a yellow one-piece print dress out from the others and pulled it over her head without holding it up for the mirror. After twisting and turning to fasten the buttons, she smoothed the more fitted bodice and shook the skirt straight. Nodding at the reflection, she sat down at her dressing table and pulled the pins out of the knot of hair that was already sagging. She stared at her face in the mirror.

  What if Toby was only doing this because he felt forced into it? “Ha!” Nobody had ever forced Toby into anything.

  Brushing out her waves of brown hair, she gathered it back with a green-and-yellow-plaid ribbon and tied a small bow on top. After putting the brush in the drawer, she leaned in to pinch her cheeks, hoping to bring out some more color. “Deborah MacCallister, what is the matter with you? Stop this nonsense immediately.” The smile on the face in the mirror refused to dim.

  “Don’t you look lovely,” Mary Martha said with a wide smile when Deborah joined her in the kitchen.

  “Thank you. How can I help?”

  “Here, an apron. That bowl of peas needs shelling first. We’re having creamed peas and ham over biscuits. I didn’t find any potatoes large enough to use, but maybe next week. Go easy on eating them raw, we barely have enough.” A grin accompanied the admonishment.

  When the clock hands showed five o’clock, Deborah hung up her apron, washed her hands, and retrieved her shawl from the bedroom. Good thing she was wearing her boots and carrying her black leather slippers. Again Ma’s suggestion.

  “You look lovely, my dear,” her mother said again in reassurance.

  The dog’s barking announced a visitor. Deborah blew out a breath and went to answer the knock on the door. Lord, please. But please what, she had no idea.

  When she opened the door, Toby looked the same as always—too handsome for his own good.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Come in.” She stepped back and motioned him inside, then reached for her shawl.

  He smiled and nodded. “Better bring the umbrella. Dark clouds in the west again.”

  Mary Martha joined them. “Was the fire pit full of water?”

  “We drained it and added more rocks to the bottom. Getting that fire going in a couple hours will be a challenge, but if you pour enough kerosene on it, you can start anything. Never fear, we’ll have plenty of meat for the party.” He tipped his hat. “See you tomorrow at the machinery warehouse.”

  Mary Martha smiled. “We’ll be there bright and early. I sure hope God answers our prayers to move the rain on.”

  “Me too.”

  Deborah flipped her shawl around her shoulders and joined him on the porch. He grabbed the umbrella out of the stand and glanced down at her feet. He grinned at her. “Smart.”

  He didn’t make some funny comment about my boots. She smiled back at him. “Thank you.” Was that all she could say?

  As they walked, he even guided her around the puddles.

  They kicked mud off and mounted the steps to Rebecca’s house. “And we didn’t even need the umbrella.” He stuck it in the stand and knocked on the door.

  They heard Benny yell, “They’re here!”

  “You’d think I never came for supper.” Toby grinned at the boy on his crutches and wearing the prosthetics Lars and Mr. Sam had made for him. “Hey, what is this, company manners?”

  Benny’s grin lit up the doorway. “Ma said.” He stepped back very carefully and motioned them in.

  Toby handed Benny his hat. “I’m sure glad you finally came back to town. I was beginning to think you’d moved to the farm.”

  “I like it out there a whole lot.” He stopped and took a breath. “I’m glad to see you too, Miss Deborah.”

  Deborah caught back her giggle. “Thank you, Mr. Benny.”

  Puzzlement twisted his face, and then his laugh broke through. He reached for her hand and whispered loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. “Ma said.”

  She leaned closer. “You did a fine job as a greeter. I’m glad you’re back home too. We have a little boy at the hospital with a broken leg learning to use crutches who needs a Benny visit.”

  “Oh good. Tomorrow?”

  “I’m hoping they can come to the celebration. If they do, could you make sure he has a good time?”

  “Sure. I could go to the hospital too.”

  “I know. Inga and Emmy taught him how to play checkers.”

  “Maybe we could have a checkers tournament.”

  “Leave it to you, Benny,” Toby said. “You should have been on the planning committee.”

  Gerald stopped behind his son. “Come on in. Rebecca has something special to serve before supper.” He rolled his eyes and looked at his brother. “I know, don’t say anything.”

  “You go ahead. I need to change my shoes.” Deborah sat on the chair by the door for that very purpose.

  “I’ll wait.” Benny stood beside her and sniffed. “You smell good.”

  Toby gave Deborah a surprised look, as if he hadn’t thought about how she might smell.

  “Why, thank you, Benny.” She slid her feet into her good leather shoes.

  “Gerald, will you put Agnes up in the high chair?” Rebecca called.

  In the kitchen, the table was all set, and Rebecca greeted Deborah and Toby like company. “Here, try these. Since we got rained out at the Soda Shoppe, I tried something new.”

  “I helped,” Benny informed them.

  “He sure did. And best of all, he kept the little ones out from under my feet.” The plate she passed around held sour cream and chocolate sandwich-style cookies with almond frosting in the middle, artfully placed in circles. “It’s a bit muggy in here, but now that the rain has stopped, we can open the windows and the doors.”

  Toby took three of the cookies and popped them into his mouth, one after the other. “These are good. What are they?”

  “Chocolate sandwiches. Glad you enjoy them.”

  “You sit by me,” Benny said, motioning to Deborah’s chair as Rebecca settled Mark and Swen into their chairs. Agnes banged her spoon on the high-chair tray. “Onkel Toby, you sit on Deborah’s other side.” He looked to Rebecca, who nodded. “I sure am hungry.”

  “Didn’t they feed you out at the farm?” Toby asked.

  “Ja, but that was yesterday, and we had to walk to town because the wagon would get stuck and I didn’t have a soda forever.”

  “Can I help?” Deborah asked.

  “We have it all under control.” Rebecca and Gerald set the platter and bowls on the table.
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  Deborah paused in surprise when Toby pulled out her chair for her. What in the world?

  Gerald did the same for Rebecca, and after sitting down, bowed his head. Benny helped two-year-old Mark fold his hands and nodded when Gerald asked him to say the blessing.

  “Thank you for Onkel Toby and Deborah coming, thank you I am home, and thank you for the food.” He paused and everyone joined in the amen, including one-year-old Agnes, who dropped her spoon and banged the tray with her hands.

  “Will you be ready to start the fire tonight?” Gerald asked as he put a small portion of meat on three-year-old Swen’s plate and then cut it.

  “Oh, ja. Trygve and Samuel will pour the kerosene on the wood any time now so we get coals built up. We’ll put the beef on at about four a.m. We took it out of Garrisons’ cooler and set the spit, so we just have to set it in place on the frame. Mrs. Sam took over getting the pork ready. Her ovens are about the only ones big enough.” Toby turned to Deborah. “You’re not on duty tomorrow, are you?”

  “No, but I start on nights next week.”

  “You need more help over there.” Rebecca cut some potato and carrots into small pieces for Agnes and put the spoon back in her hand.

  “She likes to use her fingers best,” Benny said to Deborah.

  “Babies do that.”

  When they finished the meal, including cake and ice cream, Toby patted his stomach. “I sure like your cooking better than mine.”

  Rebecca grinned at him. “You know you’re welcome any time.”

  “’Cause you’re our onkel.” Benny turned to Deborah. “And when you and Onkel Toby . . .”

  “Benny!” Rebecca slapped her hand on the table. “Pass your plate, now!”

  Toby snorted. Deborah felt flames attack her cheeks. Would that she could clap her hand over Benny’s mouth. What had Rebecca and Gerald said? Had Benny heard?

  Deborah pushed back her chair. “I’ll help you with the dishes.” She picked up her plate and nudged Toby to hand her his. Would that she could cool off with a wet cloth to her face.

  Toby failed to completely hide the laughter dancing in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  Gerald rose. “Come on, Toby, we men will adjourn to the parlor.”

  The younger kids were already chasing each other out of the room.

  “We could play checkers.” Benny slid off his chair and reached for his crutches, leaning against the back of his chair.

  Toby ruffled his hair. “Good idea. You sure have gotten stronger on your new legs. The way you’re growing, we might have to make new ones soon.”

  “Really?” Benny grinned at his pa, who shrugged and led the way to the parlor.

  “Sorry about that.” Rebecca shook her head as she and Deborah set the dirty dishes in the sudsy dishwater. “I think Benny talks more than ever, and we never know what will come out of his mouth.”

  “Thanks for your efforts.”

  “Gerald had a talk with him recently and said he would again. I know Toby likes you.”

  Like is not enough. I want . . .

  Chapter 13

  Johnny Solberg rang the church bells at noon.

  Penny smiled at Ingeborg. “Now, that’s a fine way to get people to gather together.”

  “I agree.” As one, they stepped back and studied the tables already loaded with pans and cast-iron pots of the food people had brought, with more still arriving. “Funny how we always fret a bit about what people will bring, and there is always more than enough.”

  “That’s because we all prayed too.” Mary Martha set two custard pies on the table. “I was hoping there would be enough strawberries, but this rain sure drove them into the dirt.”

  “Rebecca didn’t have any fresh ones for the ice cream. I gave her what I had left of the canned.” Ingeborg set her basket up on the table, and Clara, baby sleeping in his sling, set to slicing bread while Freda unwrapped the platter of sliced cheese.

  The couple coming through the door caught Ingeborg’s attention and she set out to meet them. “Dr. Deming, Vera, so good to see you. Welcome.”

  “Hello, Ingeborg. I told the men I’d help with the meat cutting, but I apologize for being late.”

  “I don’t know why it is when you are ready to go out the door. . . .” Vera shook her head at her son.

  “At our place it might be the cows got out or some crazy thing, so we all understand. He is growing so fast that I can see it from one week to the next.” Ingeborg reached a finger toward Phillip, who grabbed it and pulled it toward his mouth. “Uh oh, teething time.”

  “See, he has two on top and four on the bottom, but this one is being stubborn.” Vera rubbed her finger over one of the nubs in Phillip’s gum.

  Dr. Deming smiled at Ingeborg. “I’ll leave you ladies and go do my duty.” He headed for the rest of the menfolk.

  “Set the basket on the dessert table,” Vera called after her husband. She turned to Ingeborg. “This one can get in more trouble when I’m baking pies.”

  When Ingeborg reached for him, the baby leaned into her arms.

  “He’s heavy,” Vera warned.

  “Oh, but full of sweetness.” Ingeborg kissed the little fist that reached for her face. “Little Phillip, you are a charmer. Come, let’s join the others.” She settled the baby on her hip and slipped her arm through Vera’s. “We never see enough of you.”

  “Good to see you, Vera.” Mary Martha set the Demings’ pies out on the table. “These look so good. What kind are they?”

  “One’s buttermilk and the other rhubarb custard. Sophie gave me some rhubarb, and Dr. Deming loves rhubarb, so I kept one of those at home.”

  “I canned some of the rhubarb this year and made strawberry rhubarb jam,” Mary Martha said. “How would you like to start cutting pies? And Ingeborg, I get Phillip next. You have to share.”

  Ingeborg handed him over. “He’s sure strong. He’ll be running before you know it.”

  “He can pull himself up on the crib rails now, and when I put him down, he crawls off to inspect everything around him. I have to keep the doors shut to whatever room I’m in, or he’d be up helping the carpenters.” Vera picked up a knife. “Six pieces to a pie or eight?”

  “Let’s do six, and they can go back for seconds if there is enough.”

  Emmy and Inga were gathering the children to play a game away from the tables of food. They had been cautioned that even though the sun was out, no one was to play outside and get muddy, at least not before dinner.

  “I’m going to see how the men are coming with the meat.” Ingeborg greeted new arrivals as she made her way to the tables outside, where four men were wielding knives at the side of beef.

  Hjelmer stepped back to stretch his shoulders. “It’s a shame we can’t serve by the pit like we did last year.”

  Mr. Garrison handed him a newly sharpened knife. “I had my doubts we’d get this done at all.” He waved Garth Wiste over. “You take over for Hjelmer for a minute, please; our banker isn’t as strong as he thinks he is.”

  “Be right there.” Garth tied one of the butcher aprons around his waist. “Hey, Mr. Belin, bring that over here, please.”

  “Da, coming.”

  “I can see you all have this under control.” Ingeborg stepped closer to Hjelmer. “Have you seen Thorliff?”

  “No.” His tightened jaw said more than his mouth. “He’ll show up, but I know he said the special edition would be here.”

  “I hope so. Thelma and Rolly came a bit ago.”

  Andrew joined them. “Do you want me to go get him?”

  “No, I think not but takk.”

  Lord, please bring him here. Surely he wouldn’t miss this. Concern heaped on concern, in spite of Ingeborg’s efforts to leave it all in God’s hands.

  Answering greetings as she made her way back into the hubbub of the warehouse, she especially welcomed the newer folks in town, absolutely refusing to even think of them as the immigrants any longer. After all, when you counted ti
me, they were no longer new. She admired a babe in arms, thanked others for coming, and oohed and aahed over the dishes many brought of specialties from their homeland. That was getting to be one of the best parts of community happenings: the variety of food.

  “Please save me one of your marvelous blintzes,” Ingeborg said to Marina Rasinov, who had become one of the quilters.

  “I brought lots.” She leaned closer. “You no worry. I bring some to quilting next time. I miss no quilting in summer.”

  “Me too.”

  They discussed what they were working on, and several others joined them. One woman smiled when they heard the musicians tuning up. “Dancing later?”

  “Ja, for sure.”

  “How long until the beef is ready?” John Solberg asked Ingeborg.

  “They will start bringing it in any time.”

  “Good. I’ll tell Daniel. I’m glad he volunteered to be our announcer.” They both knew that Thorliff, the usual announcer, had refused the position this year.

  Ingeborg joined the women as they gathered the children together and pointed to the raised platform where Reverend Solberg and Daniel Jeffers were talking. Jonathan was sitting at the piano, with Joshua Landsverk and Johnny Solberg ready on guitars. The man who played the concertina joined them, as did a fiddler. The orchestra was growing. John clanged the iron triangle to announce the start of the celebration.

  Daniel lifted the megaphone to his mouth and shouted for their attention. “Welcome, folks, to our Fourth of July celebration. We aren’t outside like usual, but you all know why.” Chuckles and bits of applause skittered over the crowd as they quieted. “Thank you. Thank you for coming.” He waited again. “We’ll start with the march of our flag.” He motioned to the musicians gathered just behind him on the platform.

  Jonathan hit the opening chords. As the oldest male of the original settlers, Lars carried the red, white, and blue flag, accompanied by the two oldest immigrant men. He joined in singing. “‘My country, ’tis of thee . . .’”