Mrs. Geddick hurried down the aisle and blew out a breath as she slid into one of the seats. “Sorry, late.”
“We are just beginning,” Mary Martha assured her. “Let’s have a time of silence to confess our sins and clear our minds, and then I will begin. As usual, speak what comes to your mind.” She clasped her hands and bowed her head.
Deborah did the same and felt a peace flow over her that caught her by surprise. Her tight shoulders relaxed and she breathed slowly in and out, hearing the others do the same. Thank you, Lord, for bringing me here. I had no idea.
Mary Martha began. “Lord God, thank you for sending Jesus to bring forgiveness and restore us to you. You know the desires of our hearts and you, dear Lord Christ, are right here with us as you said you would be. We thank you and praise you and bring to you now the needs of our town that you have blessed so mightily.”
Even the silence felt alive and waiting.
Prayers of gratitude started to flow, then moved into praying for the men building the addition.
“Lord, they are working so long and hard, please keep them safe from accidents.”
“And make sure the materials get here when they are needed.”
“Father, you brought the deaf school into existence and we have always trusted you for all those who come, and that all of our needs would be met. And now, thanks to all your blessing and guidance, we are building more. You provided the funding, you know all our needs, even before we do.”
“Please put a hedge of protection around it all.”
Deborah listened and added her unspoken requests for the school. The silence between the gentle requests seemed alive. Could she pray aloud too, like the others?
“And Father, that brings us to the public school. The too-small school buildings, since you bring more families here to live and work.”
“And the need for good teachers who care about their students like all those we have now. You have blessed us over and over, and sometimes you move some on to other places. Lord, we miss Anji and Thomas Devlin and others who have left in the past.”
“Thank you that you know who you are calling here and you will bring them so we don’t have to worry about that.” A pause. “You know I try not to worry.”
Deborah fought a chuckle. Was this really the way these women had been doing it all these years? She’d seen Ingeborg and her father joining to pray for healing for patients, and God making it happen. She’d seen some die or be crippled anyway, but they kept on praying.
Was this what the Bible talked about when it said to pray for others? She jerked her mind back to the group.
Could she pray for Toby—here—before the final amen? She felt Ingeborg’s hand on her knee. Permission? A benediction. That word too had new meaning. Benediction, blessing—peace.
“Father, you care about every little bit of our lives. You know our daughter Deborah desires to be loved and married.” Ingeborg paused and patted Deborah’s knee. “If Toby is the man you desire for her, help him grow into the man you want him to be, that she needs as a husband. If he is not, please bring the one you want for her.”
Someone else added, “Fill his heart with love for Deborah, take away any fears, and Lord, as in all else, we will give you all the praise and all the glory.”
“Thank you,” Deborah said softly as she sniffed back tears. Somehow a handkerchief found its way into her hand.
“Ja, Lord, we know you can do even this, but if this man is not who you intend for our Deborah, you will bring someone else here for her.”
Deborah found herself nodding and agreeing. Thorliff and Astrid. The names floated through her mind. “Can we pray for Astrid and Thorliff?”
“Takk,” Ingeborg said. “Lord God, the terrible breach between my two children. I know you love them more than I do, but this mor’s heart is breaking for them.”
“Heal him, Lord, of his grief so he can trust you again. Only you are wise enough to straighten out such as Elizabeth dying. He doesn’t understand because his mind is blind with grief and he cannot—”
“Or will not let it go.”
“Lord God, we trust you in this as in all things, that you are working as you have promised. You see inside them and us and know the desires of our hearts.”
This is for me too. You see the desires of my heart. You are not ignoring me. Deborah had to catch her breath. Another voice floated into her inner ear. You are mine and I love you.
Tears bathed her face, soaked her handkerchief. She knew the arms that wrapped around her were her mother’s, so she leaned back into the embrace and used the next cloth pressed into her hand. They were all gathered around her, patting her knee, her shoulders, her head. When she could breathe without crying, one by one, they returned to their chairs.
Thank you and praise you, Lord lifted from around the circle. “Thank you.” Deborah hoped they all knew she meant them as well as God.
After a long silence that vibrated with peace, Mary Martha whispered, “And we all say . . .”
They joined her as one. “Amen. And amen.”
One by one they dragged their chairs to the back of the room and silently left for home. Outside, Deborah paused on the steps to stare up at the stars, the band of golds slowly joining the sun below the horizon and allowing the brightest stars their reign in the cobalt night sky.
She took her mother’s hand and the two walked home. The light Mary Martha always set in the window greeted them.
“Thank you for praying for Blessing and us all.” John’s voice came from the shadows, as did the fragrance of smoke from his pipe. “Only God knows how much we need Him.”
Deborah bent and kissed his cheek, hugged her ma, and headed for her room. Did her dear pa know something he wasn’t telling—yet?
Chapter 19
But do we dare hire him, what’s his name?” Toby sprawled in his chair at the early-morning meeting of the school board.
Jonathan said, “Gendarme, Anton Gendarme. He’s my cousin on my mother’s side. We spent time together when we were young, but I’ve hardly kept in touch with him since I moved out here. He’s taught a number of subjects, and he can pick up foreign languages like chickens pecking grain. He graduated from college with honors.”
Daniel frowned. “Is there such a thing as a teacher being too well educated for a small town like Blessing?”
“Good point,” Toby said. “And since he’s not married, if he’s expecting to find a nice little country girl in Blessing, he’s going to have to get in line behind a whole herd of other bachelors.” A sweet girl like Deborah. Suddenly Toby didn’t think this Anton fellow was such a hot prospect. The thought surprised him. He knew perfectly well he wasn’t jealous at all. But then he thought of the odd feeling he’d had when Samuel and Deborah were dancing and laughing.
Jonathan shrugged. “My father says my mother was unhappy that Anton took a job teaching at a public school. She felt he was working beneath his station and should be teaching at an exclusive boarding school or college prep somewhere.”
“But what if—” Daniel paused. “I don’t want to sound skeptical, but . . .”
Hjelmer completed the thought. “But what if he’s going to feel he’s superior to country people? First of all, what is bringing him to Blessing? Why is he leaving his present position?” He leaned back, a frown giving his opinion.
“And will he fit in here? That’s what I’ve been wondering too,” Garth mused.
Jonathan referred to his father’s letter. “He says Anton wants something new and different since his fiancée died. He loves teaching and making a difference. That’s why he went into the public school system.”
“You have to admit Blessing is a good place for new people. Look how Thomas Devlin fit in here.”
“And you’ve got to admit, he was different.”
Jonathan laid the letter on the table. “We need to let Father know. He boards the train in a little over a week, and he wants Anton to come with him.” He gave a sharp n
od. “I say, hire him.”
“Me too.” Hjelmer and Daniel spoke at once.
Toby shrugged. “You know I’m not really on the school board.”
“The only one missing is John Solberg, and he feels this is God’s design for us.”
“Anton also loves music and plays the violin, which he’s very good at.” Jonathan looked to Thorliff. “Perhaps we can have a music program like Elizabeth dreamed of.”
Thorliff shut his eyes and inhaled loudly. “Garth, send our provisional acceptance to David Gould. Jonathan, will they both live at your house then, at least for now?”
“Yes.”
“Remember, I offered my house,” Toby put in. My house is too empty.
“Perhaps we should let Anton make that decision,” Jonathan suggested. “Either way is fine by Grace and me.”
“All right, back to construction.” Thorliff looked over to Toby. “Anything else we have to discuss?”
Toby shook his head. “Just the same old tune we’ve been piping for months: If we are to meet the fall deadline, we have to have more men.”
“Put David Gould and the new schoolteacher to work,” Hjelmer muttered. He paused. “Have you asked at the hospital in Chicago? Who knows, they might have a handle on the working men there.”
“I’ve run ads in the Grand Forks paper and the Grafton paper. One problem is where will they live?”
“Another tent town?”
Thorliff shuddered. “Look what happened to our people. That fire could have killed or at least burned . . .” He looked to Hjelmer. “Help me on this.”
Hjelmer just nodded.
“Anything else, Toby?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Thorliff stood and pulled his watch out of his pocket. “We’ve got to cut these meetings shorter.”
“We don’t usually have to hire a teacher first.” Hjelmer started for the door, but as the others were exiting, he stopped and turned back. Toby paused too, frankly, to eavesdrop.
“What are you going to do about the newspaper? I suggest you order a new press and at the same time ask if they know someone who is trained and wants to move west to run it. That way you could write and edit, what you do best, and Lemuel can help this man put the paper out. Before you kill yourself.” Without waiting for an answer, Hjelmer headed for the bank.
Toby could only see Thorliff’s profile, but there was that furious glare again. Then Thorliff turned away and started gathering papers up from the table. His shoulders sagged. Had Hjelmer’s suggestion made an impression at all? John seemed to think Thorliff would come around. Toby was not so sure.
Toby headed for the railroad station.
The train had come and gone. The stationmaster and two other fellows had already loaded one wagon from the flatcar parked on the siding. The team was tied by the station door, swishing flies and looking bored.
Toby untied them and crawled up into the wagon box. He waved at the two men loading the next wagon. “I’ll take this one.” At least I don’t have to fight mud this time.
He clucked the team forward and turned them onto the road past Ingeborg’s and ending at the Knutsons’ and the deaf school. He tried to keep out of the ruts, but since that was becoming impossible, he kept the team pulling at a jog when they could. That had its own disadvantage; the wagon box bucked and bounced in four different directions. Constantly.
Driving a wagon gave him too much thinking time. He knew he should have left a note or something for Deborah, but he never thought of it until he wasn’t home. As if he were ever home longer than to drop like the dead into bed. It was thoughtful, really, leaving food for him. It sure made life a whole lot easier. On the other hand, now he was beholden to her. He didn’t like being beholden to anyone, but especially her.
Why especially her? That thought struck him. This whole business was getting too complex.
At the construction site, Ilse’s husband, George, and two of the boys from the deaf school who’d stayed to work through the summer started unloading immediately. Toby signed thank you and strode over to the cook wagon that was now serving as his office and storage. He had nailed diagrams of the basement and forms to the wall. He dropped his papers on the table and motioned for Trygve and Joshua to meet him.
“There’s more material at the train. Johnny Solberg is driving the next wagon and will take this one back. How is it going here?”
“It’s going okay. Are there nails in one of these loads?” Trygve asked. “We’ll be out by the end of the day.”
“Also saws to take to Mr. Sam to sharpen.”
“Johnny can pick up the saws. I don’t know if there are nails.” Lord, we need more helpers.
“Remember, haying starts tomorrow. Pa is turning hay today, and he says the windrows are drying out fast,” Trygve reminded him. “We’re going to lose Heinz Geddick, and Este too.”
“I know. You think Emmy and Inga could drive a hay wagon?”
“They’re too small.”
“I’m going to ask Ingeborg.” Toby thought about all the children in this town. Those who were not too young were already working, at least during the summer.
“You be careful. They’ll be up on that hay wagon and having the time of their life,” Trygve said, waving his arms like children. “I think they would love field work.”
“Thorliff and Andrew would kill me.”
Trygve grinned. “Doubt it.”
Down in the hole that would one day be a deaf school, Toby grabbed a hammer and filled his leather apron pockets with nails. He and Trygve settled into the teamwork born of many hours working together before. Within minutes, he had sweat rivering down his chest and soon his face, in spite of his hat. He pulled his big red kerchief from his back pocket and tied it around his head. When the church bells in the distance finally announced noon, he headed for the water buckets.
“Did you bring dinner?” Trygve asked him.
Mentally calling himself a couple of uncomplimentary names, Toby shook his head. The others were already sitting in the shade, still down in the hole, with their dinner buckets open. Trygve put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
Emmy popped her head over the hedge.
“Bring more sandwiches, please, and we need more water.” He turned to wide-eyed Toby. “Here, we’ll start with mine.”
“When did that start?”
“Both Ingeborg and Kaaren are sending food out.” Trygve handed one of his sandwiches to Toby and motioned toward the shade. “It’s a shame we don’t get a breeze down here, but at least we can sit in the shade.”
“Who’s bringing supper out tonight?”
“You missed Deborah here last night.” Trygve cocked on eyebrow. “She was looking for you.”
Toby snorted and took a huge bite so he needn’t answer.
“Oh, and to answer your question, I have no idea who exactly, but someone will. You can always trust the women of Blessing to make sure everyone is fed.”
Emmy charged down the ramp they used to haul the dirt out and handed Toby a packet of sandwiches and some cookies. She waved, and back up she went again.
Laughing, Toby almost choked on the last bit he was chewing. He unwrapped a sandwich and this time could eat more slowly. Leave it to Ingeborg. He chuckled both inside and out. “True. Now if we just had enough hands to get this thing up and ready for winter.”
Trygve turned his head and stared at him. “You know what John would say?”
Toby shrugged.
“He’d say we asked for this to happen and now we have to trust that God will make it happen. We just keep doing the best job we can and trust.” He leaned a bit closer so he could lower his voice. “And Haakan would say, ‘Let the day’s own troubles be sufficient for the day.’ So, my friend, don’t borrow on tomorrow’s or next month’s trouble.” He nudged Toby with his elbow.
“Thanks, I’ll try not to.”
Both men pushed themselves upright.
“Let�
�s get back at it!” Trygve called. Within minutes, the pounding and sawing commenced.
A wagon arrived with more materials. Johnny yelled down, “Where do you want these nails?”
“Bring two boxes down here and stack the others by the cook wagon.”
Toby set to work. “We’re going to need a shack of some sort for office and storage before they need that cook wagon for harvest.”
“They’re going to build one for us at the school woodshop. Lars already told me that. I think they are doing it at night, the way they are all working here.” Trygve hollered, “Hey, Johnny, we got saws down here for you to take to Mr. Sam. Tell him we need ’em back tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
At least in the afternoon one long side of the hole was in the shade. Slowly the forms were framed and then covered with boards. They’d pour the nine-foot walls first and then extend them for the next pour.
That night when Toby staggered into his house, he found a pitcher with cold lemonade in the icebox, a jug of milk, several slices of bread, and some cheese. The note said, “Might help with breakfast too. We are praying for safety on your job.”
This time he dug a pencil out of his shirt pocket, turned the note over, and wrote, “Thank you, for the drink, the food—and especially the prayers.”
He weighted it down with a spoon, and this time remembering to shuck boots and clothes, collapsed on his bed.
They’re praying for me—who? The whole family? Could well be. What Deborah was doing was a Christian service, for sure. Well, it figured. Her father was Reverend Solberg, after all.
Someone’s rooster crowing jerked him awake. While it was getting lighter outside, the sun was not up.
He had not even one clean shirt. When could he ever do the wash? Who could he ask? He’d never in his life worked this hard for this long, and before, his mor did the wash. He’d ask Gerald. He knew more about the people of Blessing than anyone.
Dressed again and very aware of needing a bath, he tramped downstairs, poured a glass of milk, and clapped the cheese inside the slices of bread. Why did Deborah keep doing this? As her part in Blessing’s huge construction race against time? Or for, well, more personal reasons? He took a big bite of his cheese sandwich. Mmm. This was the good cheese. He headed out the door.
From This Day Forward Page 18