Friday night Thorliff had supper with his parents. After they were done and Ingeborg was cleaning up, Andrew joined them, and then before long Trygve and Lars arrived too.
“Why, what a surprise.” Ingeborg welcomed them, slid the coffeepot back to the front hot part of the stove, and fed the fire. “I’d have baked a cake had I known you were coming.” She looked from face to face, catching the idea they weren’t there on a social call. O Lord, now what? While she dished the cookies onto a plate, she watched as one by one they pulled out a chair at the table.
Haakan made his way in from the back porch. “Well, how good to see all of you.”
“Far, we need to talk.” Thorliff pulled out his father’s chair.
“About what?” Haakan sat down and leaned against the chair back.
With everyone seated, Thorliff started the meeting. “We heard that you are planning on driving one of the hay wagons.”
“Ja, I think I can do that. Once I get up there, I should be fine. Can tie myself to the hayrick if need be.” He smiled like that was a joke. Andrew shook his head.
“What if you collapse and fall off?”
“I said we can tie me up.” His voice took on an edge.
Thorliff leaned forward. “What’s your rush? All that heat out there. Could get sunstroke mighty easy.”
“We don’t want you to try it yet, Far.”
Haakan sat up straighter and leaned forward. “Are you trying to tell me I can’t go out and work my own land?”
“No, we’re telling you that you need to take more time off until you are stronger.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
Thorliff was keeping his voice quiet. “No one said you are. But you’ve been very ill, and it wasn’t long ago we weren’t sure if you were going to live or die. Have you talked with Mor about it? Astrid or Elizabeth?”
“I mentioned it to Ingeborg the other night.”
She brought the cups to the table and returned for the coffeepot, all without a word. Going around the table, she filled Haakan’s cup last, squeezing his shoulder gently as she poured. “Cream and sugar anyone?”
All of the men studied their coffee as if seeking wisdom in the darkness.
Thorliff dunked his cookie and, after taking a bite, followed with a swallow of coffee. “What if you went down out in the field and were to slide off the rack and under the wagon?”
“Or the wheels? Or the team panicked and took off?”
“Or this sets you back and you never fully recover?”
“Onkel Haakan, we want you to be around for a long time. Please, can’t you see the wisdom in this?” This last was from Trygve.
“You gave up a good job with the well drilling to stay home and help, all because of me?”
“No, there were many reasons. I know I made the right decision.”
“Hjelmer is still pretty upset.” Haakan still had an edge in his voice.
“I know and I’m sorry, but he’ll get over it when he sees the other men doing as good a job or even better.”
“That’s beside the point.” Thorliff passed the cookie plate on around the table. “We are asking you to please give up this idea for now.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“How are you going to get up on the rack?”
“I’ll get a ladder!” Haakan pushed back from the table. “I will see you at the barn in the morning.” He walked straight to his bedroom and closed the door.
“So now what?” Andrew asked, looking at his mother. “He’s too weak to even drag a ladder. Look at him walk.”
“I swear, I . . .” Thorliff slammed the palm of his hand on the table. “Stubborn! What else can you say? Stubborn, bullheaded, pigheaded. Mor, he cannot handle this. Look at him. He’s not even walking like he used to yet.”
“Then you all better spend time praying that God will make it clear to him tonight.”
“You talk to him.”
“I’ll give him my opinion if he asks. But otherwise it won’t work.” She gave a tiny smile. “It took me a while to learn, but . . .” She paused and looked around the room. “I have a feeling we have a whole room of really stubborn Norwegian men. So, someday I’ll tell your wives how to handle you.”
They all rolled their eyes as if choreographed.
“I have plenty more cookies. God is going to work this out. Why would He fail us now?”
“But what if He lets Haakan go out there and collapse?”
Ingeborg rolled her lips together. “If that’s what needs to be, then that’s what will happen.” But please, Lord God, keep that from happening.
That night she found herself repeatedly waking up to make sure he was all right, but Haakan slept through the night as if the meeting had never occurred. Every time she woke, she prayed for him to be wise in the morning.
He awoke early, at first light. “Pretty soon I am going back to the barn in the mornings to milk cows again.” He said his piece firmly, letting her know his mind was made up. Was there anything more stubborn than a Norwegian whose mind was made up?
Ingeborg clenched her teeth, got up, and dressed without a word and without looking him in the eye. She did not offer to help him in any way and even her stride said what she thought. She rattled the grate with extra gusto, started the fire, and took the empty coffeepot to the sink to fill. Pumping water with a vengeance, she caught a reflection of herself in the window. She filled the pot with water and set it on the quickly heating stove. That too got an extra clang. All the while her mind kept pace. Stubborn. Stubborn. Stubborn. Now she understood it was a pride issue also. He would show those young sprouts!
She added the coffee grounds to the water and shoved more wood in the firebox. The frying pan clanged. The floor shook under her feet, and even the cat stayed away, watching her from behind the stove. Saved fat sizzled in the pan waiting for the slices of cornmeal mush she had cooked and left to set up overnight.
When Haakan sat down at the table, he was dressed for work, including his boots, the first time he’d worn them since the collapse. The coffee nearly sloshed over the rim of the cup when she set it down before him.
Ingeborg Bjorklund, talk about him being stubborn. Look at the way you’re acting. Ignoring the voice was difficult, but she managed. Breakfast was a strangely silent affair, since Freda had spent the night at Kaaren’s so they could continue to scrub down all the dorm rooms. In fact, the entire school building. Kaaren always had the building all fresh and clean for the new and returning students.
She bowed her head, Haakan said grace, and they ate. Without talking.
Finally Haakan said, “Are you so angry you cannot even speak?”
She nodded.
“But you never get angry like this, not for years and years. Is my wanting to help with the haying such a terrible thing? Ingeborg, I have to be able to work again, or what is the sense of living?”
Her eyes welled up and one overflowed. “Haakan, I do not believe you are strong enough for this—not yet. I fear you are taking your life in your hands and all because you are too proud to admit you just might possibly have made a mistake last night. All those men were here because they love you and respect you and want you here with all of us for a long time yet.”
“You know I have said that if it is my time to go home to heaven, I am ready.”
“I understand that and I am too, but that does not give one permission to take foolish chances.”
“So now I am a fool too?”
“No! But you are doing a foolish thing. And I don’t want you to have a setback, serious or otherwise.” She laid her hand over his. “Please, Haakan, please.”
He stared down at their hands. “I have to try, my Inge. I have to try. If I feel weak or dizzy, I will return to the house. All right?”
“What can I say? You know my mind. All right.” She went to the door with him and watched as he walked to the barn. The milkers were finished, so the cows were gathered around th
e water tank, drinking their fill. Then they followed the lead bossy, single file, out to the far pasture. Coffee cup in hand, she leaned against the porch post, letting God’s creation soothe her angry spirit.
“Now I have to confess that anger, don’t I?” A twittering bird seemed to look right at her and give instructions. “And, Lord, this shows that I am not trusting you in all things.” Be not afraid tiptoed through her mind. “Fear not. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Lord, I do want to trust you, but sometimes it is so hard. I know you are bigger than a man’s pride, and you can be more stubborn than anyone. I give him back to you. My anger only made noise, and it gave me an upset stomach. I am sorry. Thank you for the way you send peace. I can feel it seeping into my skin and surrounding my heart. Your peace and joy, O Lord. I will sing praises to your holy name.”
A meadowlark sat on one of the fence posts to the garden and, beak wide, sang to her. The aria made her smile and whisper more words of thanks. The cat wound around her ankles, and when she picked the old girl up, the purring motor rumbled in her hands.
A snuggling cat, birds singing, the leaves of the cottonwood whispering secrets, a horse nickering, a calf bawling—all the sounds of a summer morning. God, you are in your heavens, and all is right with my world. Humming, she went inside to start the bread dough.
“Ingeborg, can you get the door?” Lars called a while later.
She ran to push the screen open to see Lars and Andrew half walking, half carrying Haakan to the steps of the porch.
“Okay, Haakan, you have to step up now. Can you hear me?”
“Ja. I will step up.” Haakan did so, raising first one foot and then the other as the two men stepped with him.
“Haakan, do you want to lie in bed or out here?” Ingeborg spoke slowly and distinctly.
“Out here, please. I just need to rest, not sleep.” His voice was faint, but he spoke clearly.
“Let me get some pillows.” She hurried back into the house and brought pillows to cushion the wicker arms. Together they sat him down on the cushioned settee, and Andrew lifted his father’s legs so he could recline against the pillows.
“There, Far. Better?”
“Ja. This is good.”
“What happened?” Ingeborg’s heart pounded as if she had carried him.
“I promised you, Inge, that if I felt faint I would ask for help. I did and they did and no one is hurt, including me.”
“Thank you, Lord.”
“Ja, thank you, Lord God.” His eyes began drifting closed. “Takk for the help, Andrew, Lars. Tell the others I am all right. I’ll see you all at dinner.”
She followed the two men to the gate. “All is well?”
“Ja. We will tell you later. The sun has dried the dew so now we can get out there and start bringing the hay in.” Andrew took her hand. “It was a good thing, Mor. God did a good thing.”
“Good thing? He collapsed!”
“Ja. Now he knows he’s not ready to work in the fields. It took this to convince him.”
Ja. Ingeborg could not do that, so God did. Why did she not depend upon Him first instead of later?
She watched them stride back to the hayracks and horses, anxious to be about their work. “Thank you, Lord, for taking good care of my Haakan. And all of us. Now please protect them all.”
Chapter 20
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
Miriam counted her few remaining coins. Yes, she had to use some for the trolley. She wouldn’t have time tomorrow to walk clear home and back. But she had to see her family to say good-bye.
Just the thought brought a monstrous lump to her throat. A year. It would be a year before she could return to Chicago. A year stretched to eternity. Her common sense chided her. It is only a year. Other people are gone from their families for years on end. You can write letters, and you know the mail comes to Blessing, not just from it.
Common sense was not a comfort, not by any means.
Right after breakfast the next morning, she tucked the extra bread, cheese, roast chicken, and a jar of soup into her bag. Cook was so generous to send food like this to her family. If only she were bringing better news too. She’d waited, hoping Mrs. Korsheski would have found ways to help like she said she would, but there had been no mention of anything so far.
Their train tickets were for Friday afternoon and it was already Sunday.
A knock at her door raised her hopes, but they were dashed again when it was Corabell standing there, wringing her hands, sniffing back tears.
Miriam put on a welcoming face. “Come in.” She stepped back. “How can I help you?” She wanted to scream, “What are you bawling about now, for heaven’s sake?” But she refrained. That would bring on a crying jag that would flood the room.
“I c-can’t go to Blessing, Miriam. I just can’t.” The can’t came out on a wail.
Miriam guided her to the edge of the bed and sat her down. “Of course you can. No one ever died of homesickness. And look, you’ve not even left Chicago yet. Go see your family today and enjoy yourself.” She didn’t mention saying good-bye.
Corabell nodded, sniffed, mopped, and heaved a sigh. “Thank you. You are so good to me. I know I am a ninny; after all, this is the chance of a lifetime.”
“Right.” She was glad to see that this young nurse had indeed been listening to her counsel in former bouts like this. “Corabell, I hate to rush you, but I need to catch the trolley. I will see you this evening at supper.”
“Oh, I am so sorry. I’m taking up precious time with your family.” She rose to her feet. At least no more tears flowed. Smiling even though her lips quivered, she thanked Miriam again and left.
Miriam sagged against the closed door. What a worrier that woman was. How she ever had the courage to enroll in nursing school was beyond what she could imagine. Yet she was a good nurse in her caring for patients. For some reason ill women found comfort in Corabell, and she often could be found at the bedside of a patient. Especially those in extremis or comatose. Why could she be so compassionate in helping patients and yet such a soggy mess of tears when it came to leaving Chicago? Quickly, before she had any more interruptions, Miriam pinned her hat on her nest of hair and, basket on arm, headed for the outside door. The trolley would not wait.
But once she hopped on, it sure was slow. Or perhaps she was too impatient. That thought almost made her smile. Her? Impatient? She smiled at the dowager sitting across from her, but all she received in return was a slight nodding of the head. A dip, you might call it.
When the trolley finally reached her stop, she stepped down and, ignoring strictures to be more ladylike, walk-trotted the three blocks to the tenement where they lived. By the time she stepped onto the fourth floor, she needed to stop and catch her breath. But the need to see her family was greater, so she strode down the hall, ignoring the smells of filth, despair, and stale booze. She knocked the three, pause, one signal and waited for someone to unlock the door.
Her sister, Mercy, the one closest to her in age, threw wide the door and, along with the others, piled around Miriam as she hugged each one.
“I was beginning to think you were never coming.” Eight-year-old Truth, whose dark hair hung in one long braid, hugged her again.
“I’ve come every time I said I would.” She kissed her finger and tapped it on the girl’s turned-up nose.
“No, one time you had a ’mergency and couldn’t come.” Her eyes darkened reproachfully.
“Oh, that’s right.” Truth never forgot anything. She hugged her little sister once more and asked, “Where is Tonio?”
“He got a job for two whole weeks.” Joy, the quiet one, loved school but gave it up to stay with their mother. So the others taught her whatever they could when they were home. Miriam brought her books from the hospital library to read whenever she could.
“And maybe longer.” Este, at fourteen, worked as many places as he could and, when not working, picked up coal along the train tracks for them to heat with in the wi
nter. He brought wood when he could scavenge that too. He helped with the sewing business by picking up and delivering orders.
She lowered her voice. “How is Mama?”
“Waiting for you. She said if she was sleeping, you were to wake her.” Mercy picked up the basket Miriam had set on the floor. “Thank you. Anything will be a treat after a rather steady diet of porridge. Este found some potatoes and carrots in the dump at the market that were so good. He is a master at finding things we might use. Mama was talking about the gardens they grew in England. Wouldn’t a garden be a wondrous thing?”
Miriam dug in her bag and pulled out her remaining coins. She would walk back to the hospital. Handing them to Mercy, she whispered, “I just wish it were more.” Should she tell them about Mrs. Korsheski’s possibly sending work their way? Holy Father, let it be so. She caught herself. Such a habit and yet so futile.
The others followed her as she opened the door to their mother’s room, where the figure in the bed barely raised the covers.
Her eyes fluttered open and she extended a thin hand. “Oh, you have come. You have finally come.”
Miriam sank down on the edge of the bed, and the others found places to sit, both Joy and Truth perching at the foot. The heat in the room nearly captured her breath. Summer in Chicago could be punishing. Heat in the summer, bone-freezing wind and cold in the winter. She kissed the back of her mother’s hand. If only there were something more that could be done for her. Possibly another visit to the hospital. Last time it had helped build her strength.
“When will you be on your way to North Dakota?”
“We leave Friday afternoon.” Her fingers on her mother’s wrist told of an ever weakening heart. “Mercy said you were talking about your gardens in the old country. I heard that the ground is so fertile where I am going that whatever you put in the ground comes up tenfold. They plant cottonwood trees by just sticking a green branch in the ground and watering it.”
“Ah, the gardens we used to have in England. Oh yes. When you get to Dakota, go walking among the fields and gardens for me, please. What do they grow?”
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