From This Day Forward

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Jonathan, would you like to introduce your family?” Sophie led the way to the food tables. Deborah followed. Was she hovering too close?

  “Of course.” Jonathan leaned closer to Sophie. “And then can I retire to the piano? I learned some new music that I think you will really like.”

  “You certainly may, and you’ve piqued my interest.” Clapping her hands, Sophie raised her voice. “May I please have your attention?” Conversations continued undiminished. She clapped again and turned to Jonathan. “They all seem to be having a good time.”

  “They do.” He put two fingers in his mouth and blasted out a whistle that made some laugh and everyone fall silent.

  “Thank you, Jonathan. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to introduce our guests for tonight.” She stepped back and stood at Deborah’s side. Some folks applauded lightly.

  “Tonight I want to reintroduce my father,” Jonathan started. “I know many of you have met him when he has visited through the years, but this time, I think he will stay longer.” More applause.

  David Gould greeted them and then motioned to Anton. “Mrs. Wiste gave me the honor of introducing my nephew and your new high school teacher, Anton Gendarme.”

  Sophie nudged Deborah and whispered, “See, I told you. I have a feeling . . .”

  “No predicting the future, Mrs. Wiste.”

  Hjelmer nearly bumped into Mr. Gendarme, he moved so close. He extended his hand, introduced himself, and started talking about the bank. Deborah admired the way Mr. Gendarme remained cool and collected with so many people milling around him. But then, he was a city person and would naturally be accustomed to lots of people milling around. And being high society like Mr. Gould and Jonathan, he would surely be used to parties of all kinds.

  Sophie muttered, “As soon as he finishes talking, I will introduce you.”

  “By saying what? ‘This is our resident spinster, so you should pay attention to her’?”

  Mouth dropping open, Sophie stared at her. “Why, Deborah.” She put a hand to her bosom. “How could you ever think such a thing?” She tsked for added impact.

  Deborah rolled her eyes. “I know you, Sophie Wiste. And I don’t trust you any farther than I can throw”—she fought for the right word—“this boardinghouse.”

  Daniel pushed in ahead of them and posed a question Deborah was curious about as well. “Some of us were worried that you’d, well, get bored in a small town like this.”

  “No worries there,” Mr. Gendarme said. “I look forward to a more relaxed way of living, believe me. Paul to the Philippians.”

  Daniel looked puzzled. At Mr. Gendarme’s left, John Solberg laughed out loud. “Beautiful!” He told Daniel, “Paraphrased, Paul told the Philippians, ‘I have learned whatever state I’m in to be content.’”

  Sophie gripped Deborah’s arm and nearly pulled her off balance, thrusting her directly in front of Mr. Gendarme. But then Sophie reached back and pulled Astrid forward also. Deborah breathed a sigh of relief. Now perhaps this would not feel so . . . so outrageously staged.

  Astrid stepped forward and held out her hand. “I am Dr. Astrid Bjorklund, the head of our Blessing Hospital. You were just speaking to my husband, Daniel. I must tell you how delighted we are that you have come.”

  “Thank you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Mr. Gendarme glanced at Mr. Gould. “All good; he holds all of you in the highest esteem.” His smile drifted over to Deborah.

  “And this is my head nurse, Miss Deborah MacCallister. She is the one who really runs the hospital. I thank God for her every day.”

  Deborah could feel the flush sweeping up her face. “We have a small staff here, but it’s growing. Like our school. Thank you for choosing to come to Blessing.”

  He took her hand. “I’ve heard about you also.” He glanced at Mr. Gould, who warmed Deborah with his smile.

  Mr. Gould chuckled. “I think Anton was beginning to believe my tales of Blessing were overdone.”

  “But not anymore?” Deborah smiled at the new teacher, wishing she had a fan. What a dumb thing to say, Deborah!

  Mr. Gendarme shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes from her face. “No, ‘not anymore’ is an understatement,” he said, touching her arm. He was not just tall and very good-looking, he had a sort of presence—an aura. You could feel him.

  The heat burned brighter. If this was what instant attraction meant, she had just wandered into a whole new world. No words came, so she just nodded. Good grief, what a ninny.

  Chapter 22

  You have got to be kidding.” Toby stared openmouthed at Thorliff on Monday morning.

  “No, I’m not.” Thorliff held up his hands, palms out. “This is not my idea. I was being sarcastic when I said we’d do this, but Mr. Gendarme brought a leather apron, leather gloves, and a hammer with him. He is adamant.”

  “In the hole?”

  “Ja, in the hole. He asked if he could start on Wednesday. He wants to go over to the school, meet with John, and get an idea what teaching here will be like, what supplies they need, things like that.”

  “That’s good. Let him do that. Working construction is not like anything he’s ever known. Come on, Thorliff, he’s a citified dandy. From the look of him, he’s never done a day’s hard labor in his life.”

  “Be that as it may . . .” Thorliff huffed a deep breath. “Look, find him something safe to do, but hard enough that he’ll want to quit. Now, Gould is another matter. Remember Gould money is building that school, and if he wants to learn hard labor, he will get a chance. Besides, Mor said he might be trying to work off his grief this way.” He stared at the table in front of him, slowly shaking his head.

  “It doesn’t work, does it?” Toby spoke softly, knowing but not truly understanding what Thorliff was trying to do. What he really knew was how often he ached for Thorliff and his loss. The man had been run through his own printing press in the last couple of years and came out damaged. He figured to work it off.

  Thorliff shook his head. “Just put them to work, all right?”

  “I will, but I don’t have to like it. What if they get hurt on the job? How do I—” He stopped. “I’ll set the schoolteacher to hauling wood from the wagons down into the hole. I sure hope he gets so involved in the school that he goes after that. Let him whitewash walls or something.”

  Thorliff studied Toby. “Remember, you offered him a room at your house.”

  “I know, and the offer still stands, but I understand he’s decided to stay with Jonathan and Grace—for now, anyway. At least maybe I can keep him busy otherwise.”

  “And safer.” Thorliff motioned toward the door. “Whose crew will you put Mr. Gould on?”

  “Neither.”

  “Toby . . .”

  “Yeah, boss, I got it. He wants to pound a hammer, I’ll give him to Trygve.”

  A little later that morning, Mr. Gould appeared, ready to go to work. Even in work clothes, he stood out. He was too clean and the clothes too new.

  “Thank you, Toby, for letting me be here.”

  “You’re welcome. I figured you’d rather be out haying with Jonathan and the others.”

  “I’ve always had a hankering to build something. I do know how to drive nails and measure and rip lumber. I promise to be careful.” His half smile and half-raised eyebrows said he had a pretty good idea what Toby was thinking.

  Toby nodded. “If you’re sure you’d rather not be out haying . . .” When Gould shook his head, Toby waved his arm toward Trygve. “You’ve met Trygve Knutson on your past trips. He’s the foreman on the first of the forms crew, then Joshua’s men insert and tie off the steel bars, and Trygve’s finish the forms. As you can see, they are all working simultaneously.”

  “And they have room for another hammer, albeit a slow one?”

  “There is plenty to do. Everyone does whatever needs doing here.” Toby took Gould over to Trygve, and without a blink, Trygve nodded.

  “Glad to have you, sir.”r />
  “Please, no sir.”

  “Yes, sir—I mean, fine. Sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

  With Gould set to holding boards and nailing them in place, Toby watched the men at work and then checked the two at the sawhorses. “You need another man or a big kid to fetch and carry.”

  “That we do. It would speed this up.”

  “I should have someone for you tomorrow.”

  “I sure miss that Manny. I’ll be glad when the haying is done. At least harvest won’t take as many away.”

  Toby looked up to see John Solberg pulling on leather gloves as he strode down the ramp. “Are you ever a sight for sore eyes, Pastor. Right here. These guys need you.”

  “It’s always good to be needed.” He held up his hands. “They’re getting well callused, in spite of the gloves.”

  Toby strode up the ramp to see Benny’s team pulling in. One of the two deaf boys grinned at him and they hoisted six one-by-sixes on their shoulders and trooped down the ramp.

  “Sure could use two more like those guys.” Benny grinned at Toby. “You want to help me carry a load?”

  “Benny, if I see you hauling down that ramp, you’ll be off that wagon so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

  “Figured. I do know my limits.”

  “No you don’t. You just figure a way around so you can do it. I bet your ma misses you at the soda fountain.”

  Benny sighed. “She does, but she agrees this is more important right now.”

  Toby clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep up the good hauling.” I should go out to Deming’s. Instead, he grabbed his nailing apron out of the shack, rammed the hammer handle into the loop, and headed down into the hole.

  When the triangle rang for the morning break, the men climbed out of the hole, mopping their faces and grabbing water first thing. Clara and Freda made sure everyone got a sandwich, cookies, and coffee or swizzle.

  “There’s plenty for seconds,” Freda announced.

  John turned to Toby. “I need to meet Anton at the school after dinner, but I’ll be back later.”

  “Every board up counts. Thank you.” He turned to Gould and lowered his voice. “How are you holding up?”

  “You have strong men here. How about I stop at noon?”

  “Wise move. Say, I had a thought. Are you interested in learning finish work? I know Mr. Belin, who is running the finish work on the Deming house, is willing to train someone.”

  “Really? I like that idea. I worked out in Lars’ shop one time I was here and really enjoyed it. Haakan did such fine work too.” He took another drink. “Thank you, Toby.”

  “You are welcome. We’ll need a lot of finish carpenters once this building is up.” Toby finished off his sandwich. “Freda, we really need water jugs down in the hole in the morning too now.”

  “Ja, I will take care of it.”

  After dinner, Toby took Gould over to the Deming house and introduced him to Andrei Belin.

  “You got me hired here,” Mr. Belin said to Gould.

  “I thought you looked familiar. I told you Blessing would be a great place for you.”

  “Da. My wife and I very busy here. Mrs. Amelia teaches us English.” He paused. “Now you want to learn to work wood from me?”

  “I do.”

  “But . . .” Mr. Belin looked to Toby, who half shrugged and nodded.

  “We need every man we can find. He wants to work.”

  “What . . . um, what can you do? Here, I mean.” Mr. Belin gestured to the parlor.

  “I worked with Lars in his workshop a few times when I was in Blessing before, so I am acquainted with the tools and the importance of accurate measuring. I did well sanding for a fine finish. I am hoping you will teach me plenty more.”

  Mr. Belin glanced once more to Toby, then motioned Gould to follow him. He stopped and turned to Toby. “List of supplies we need is on counter in kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Belin.” It’s back to work we go. I wonder what Deborah is doing.

  The day dragged worse than most days, and the sun took forever to set. Finally he put his nails and hammer aside and slogged home. At first he had resented that Deborah was leaving him food all the time because he couldn’t help but suspect she had some ulterior motive. Not anymore. He was so tired now that he welcomed any food at all that he did not have to prepare.

  He stopped at his front door. A package lay there. He picked it up and took it inside. The return address said Pittsburgh. It must be for Mr. Gould. But why would someone in New York mail it to him instead?

  He lit the lantern on his table and smiled at today’s note from Deborah before tearing open the package.

  And sat down with a thud in the chair. Two pages, one of them a formal letter on letterhead and the other in Ma’s writing. And in the box were things a woman would own—thirty-seven cents, a few cosmetics, a dainty brooch with roses on it. Ma’s brooch.

  He read the letter, stuffed everything back into the box, and hurried to Gerald’s house. His mind was whirling. He needed something solid. Gerald was solid; Rebecca was solid.

  He burst in the door without knocking. “Gerald!”

  Gerald was sitting at the table with Mark on his lap, reading aloud. His mouth dropped open. He set Mark on the floor. “We’ll read later, son. This looks important.”

  Toby dumped the box on the table and flopped down in a chair.

  Frowning, Gerald stirred a finger through the little pile of belongings and picked up the letters. His lip trembled as he read them.

  Rebecca sat down. “Gerald? Toby? What is it?”

  Gerald’s voice purred soft, slow, and sorrowful, just like Toby felt. “This parcel is from the Pittsburgh Home for Indigents. The matron found our address among Ma’s effects and mailed it to us.”

  “Her effects?” Rebecca pressed her hands to her mouth. “She’s dead?”

  Gerald nodded.

  Toby felt hot tears in his eyes as he pointed to the other page. “The matron found this partly written letter to us; Ma died before she finished it.”

  “Oh no! No!” Rebecca looked from brother to brother. “What about Anner?”

  “She says Pa took a job at a stock brokerage but he wasn’t that good an investor, as we found out here in Blessing. He caused a severe loss to his brokerage. They fired him and ruined him. He disappeared. Ma was going to come back here and live with us, but she got pneumonia and died. They buried her in a pauper’s grave.”

  Rebecca covered her face and sobbed. Toby wished she hadn’t done that. He was going to start sobbing any second.

  Gerald stared at the pitiful little pile. “As I knew Pa, he would have taken care of Ma and not let her be sent to a poor folks home.”

  “You’re right,” Toby said. “For all the mistakes he made, he has a strong sense of responsibility. He’d take care of her if he could.”

  Gerald rubbed his face with both hands. His eyes were red. He sat up straight and sighed deeply. “We’ll go get her body and bring her back, rebury her here, where she should be. Probably next spring, when the ground thaws and we can dig the grave.” He smiled a very sad non-smile. “I guess she isn’t going anywhere until then.”

  Toby nodded. At least the wondering was over. Now they knew.

  Wait, no they didn’t. Where was Pa? Dead? Off somewhere seeking a fortune? That would be like him.

  Toby stood up and muttered something that was supposed to be “good-bye.” Numb, he slogged out into the darkness.

  Ma dead. Pa still gone. A mystery solved, but only by half. Would they ever learn anything about Pa?

  And then the sobbing came.

  Chapter 23

  Ingeborg closed her eyes and let the sweet aroma of haying season surround her. How she loved the scent. From her porch she could see the fields, the cattle, and the deaf school. The sound of hammers came very faintly from the new construction.

  Beside her, David Gould gestured toward the construction site. “I feel guilty sitting here when
some of the men are still working down in the hole.”

  “We all thought it wise when Toby came up with the idea to make Sunday work a choice. Many of the men go to church first, but others want the money, so the crews are smaller. But the forms keep going up.”

  “And Dr. Deming and his wife really like the day off from workers in their home. He told me so.” Gould leaned back against the cushions on the porch chair. “I hate to admit it, but this body is not used to this kind of work.”

  “I know. You should have heard Andrew and Thorliff when I insisted on driving the hay wagon. By the end of the first morning, no less, I did not dare say a word when I climbed down. The second day was better.”

  “Ah, but you do physical labor around here all the time.” He studied her sitting in the rocking chair across the table from him. “Here I feel like an old man, and you never age a bit.”

  “Dear friend, is your eyesight going?”

  Gould laughed. A real laugh, not a polite chuckle.

  “Ah, good.” Ingeborg rocked and smiled. “You are leaving New York manners behind.”

  “Manners are one thing, society etiquette is quite something else.” He tipped his head back and stared up into the cottonwood tree, all atwitter with house finches and chickadees. A wren had built its nest in the box set in the eaves of the porch.

  “Look, up in the box.” He pointed and turned with questions all over his face. “What kind of bird is that?”

  “A wren. She’s been coming for the last couple of years. Inga brings her hard beef fat or lard crumbles sometimes. Apparently wrens don’t eat bread crumbs.”

  “Where is Inga?”

  “She and Emmy put Rolly in the wagon and are taking him home.”

  “Kaaren served a fine dinner. Thank you all for including Anton and me.”

  Ingeborg stared at him in mock horror. “But you are family. Once your son married our Grace, you joined this family, whether you planned on that or not.” She raised her eyebrows and tipped her head, just slightly. “Besides, we try to make all strangers feel welcome.”