To Everything a Season

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Thorliff, check the outhouse and the cheese house. Freda is over at Kaaren’s.” While he did that, she looked toward Kaaren’s, where the men had been putting the final repairs on the harvesting machinery. Harvest was due to start as soon as the dew was off the wheat in the morning. Roiling dust marked the speed of the wagons and the horses of approaching people.

  Thorliff leaned against a post to catch his breath, shaking his head at the same time. “Where could he have gone?”

  “Did we call Ellie? Maybe he is there.”

  “When the emergency call went out, she’d have called to say he was there.”

  “Of course. O Lord God . . .”

  Thorliff wrapped his arms around her while she sobbed into his shoulder. “Thorliff, I think he is gone home.”

  “Nei, do not say that! We will find him. He is sitting resting somewhere, or he is unconscious, but we will find him.”

  Lars and Jonathan galloped up the lane on harnessed work horses and leaped off before the horses fully stopped. “Have you gone through the barn yet?”

  “Not completely.” Both men headed for the barn.

  Ingeborg took the wet cloth Manny handed her and wiped her face. She sucked in a deep breath, caught it on a sob, coughed, and let all her air out.

  “Here, sit down before you faint.” Thorliff led her to the settee and sat her down.

  “Manny, please stay by the telephone. That’s where you can help most.” He squatted in front of his mother. “Are you feeling faint?”

  “Nei. I am. . . .” She breathed in and out deeply again. “I am in God’s arms. Haakan is too.”

  Kaaren and Freda climbed the stairs, and Kaaren sat down, gathering Ingeborg into her arms. “We’ll get through this.”

  “Ja.”

  “She says Pa has gone home. She means to heaven. It cannot be!” Thorliff slammed his hand against the post. “No, it cannot be.”

  Kaaren tipped Ingeborg’s chin up and looked into her eyes. “Peace is what I see in you,” she whispered.

  “Ja. I keep thinking on the verse, ‘I will extend peace to her like a river.’ It flows through my mind and my soul.” She could hear Thorliff giving the arriving people instructions on where to look, planning—it was his gift.

  Patches charged up the steps and skidded to a stop in front of her, followed by Andrew. “I should never have taken the dog. Have you combed the house? If he has fallen, it would be so easy to not see him.”

  Ingeborg petted the dog, ruffling his ears. And then looking into his eyes, she said, “Go find Haakan, Patches. Go find Haakan.”

  Paws lightly kissed her nose and spun for the steps.

  “You better keep up with him.”

  “He gets cows, not people, Mor.”

  “He knows what I said. Just follow him.”

  “You’ve got cows in the wheat field along the river!” one of the newer arrivals hollered.

  “Oh, not now!” Thorliff muttered something else too low for his mother to hear, but she recognized the frustration building in her elder son. Sometimes he was so like Roald. His father had been a man of fewer words than his son, but they both handled anger the same way. Tamp it down, but sometimes words not normally used spouted out.

  She found her mind wandering, thinking of Haakan fishing with Carl and Inga. Of his teaching Manny to carve. Of his steadfast love, both for her and for their God. They needed to have another ball game. He made such a good umpire.

  “Ingeborg?” John Solberg knelt in front of her. He took her hands and squeezed gently.

  “Ja, I am good. Haakan has gone home, and I already miss him more than I can say, but I know.”

  “I’m not surprised. God has spoken to and through you for many years. Now, remember these words if you forget all else. No guilt! You must not allow guilt to get the barest of footholds. Satan will do that, you know. You were not here, but that too was according to God’s plan. He is in charge. He is here, in and around us, holding us close.”

  “I know. He has not let me go, and He never will, but this is not the way I would have had it. John, he was alone.”

  “No. No, he wasn’t. Haakan was not alone, and I am sure his last thought was of you. But he was not alone. God never leaves His children alone, especially when He is bringing them home.” He squeezed her hands again, ever so gently and full of love.

  “I do not grieve for Haakan. He was so ready to go home, looking forward to heaven, but I grieve for all of us. We who are left behind.” She tipped her head back and let the tears flow.

  Astrid climbed the steps and sat down by her mother. They hugged together, their tears mingling. “Inga is staying with her mother. I asked Elizabeth not to come right now, both for her sake and Inga’s. Ellie is staying at home with the children too. She said to tell you how much she loves you and is praying they will find him sitting or resting somewhere.”

  “They will find his body,” Ingeborg said gently, “but Haakan has gone home.”

  “I think that too. Oh, Mor, I am not ready to be without my far yet. I should be, but I am not.”

  “None of us are ever ready.” Ingeborg dropped kisses and tears in her daughter’s hair and rested her cheek on the top of her head. Thank you, Lord, for my children, my family, my friends. O Lord God . . . She sniffed back more tears, gave up, and picked up one of the muslin squares Freda had set on the table beside her. At least they dried quickly.

  Manny sticked along the porch from the front of the house. “They found him. The dog went right—” His voice broke and he swung around and left again.

  Preparations. They must be made, Ingeborg thought. She should be up and busy now. She sat. Others must do it. She had no strength. Her mind returned to her memories.

  Later, Thorliff came out the door. “I’ve set up the sawhorses with that door we always use in the parlor. What else can I do?”

  “We can cover it with sheets.”

  “I did. Freda said they will prepare him and asked what you would like them to dress him in.”

  “His good suit is hanging in the closet.”

  “I’ll get it out.”

  Sometime later, when all that could be done was finished, Ingeborg smoothed back Haakan’s hair. He still looked so peaceful, and that is what the men who found him said. “He looked so peaceful.” She looked to Reverend Solberg beside her. “Can we have the funeral tomorrow?”

  “Of course, but there is ice if you want to postpone it for a day or so.”

  “Why? He’s gone. As far as I’m concerned, we could have it this evening, as soon as they can build the box and dig the hole.”

  “Andrew and Thorliff, with Lars helping, are building the box now. Several others are at the cemetery digging. The call has gone out, and people are passing on the information. Tomorrow morning at ten at the church we’ll have the service. Hildegunn has taken charge of the noon meal.”

  “Did you tell everyone no black? Haakan hated the black of mourning. One night when we were talking, he said he knew this was not proper, but the Irish have it right. Throw a party. He would be in heaven, celebrating with all the saints and angels, and he hoped we could do the same.”

  “Leave it to Haakan. What a request, especially at this time of unrest. Have a party. We will do that to the best of our ability.”

  Lars had told them what he thought happened. The cows got in the wheat. Since no one else was around, Haakan went to chase them out, then fixed the fence as well as he could. He tried to drive the cows up from the river, probably to the barn, but his heart quit on the riverbank.

  Ingeborg said, “I am not surprised that he died that way, taking care of his land, his wheat, and his cows.”

  “Neither am I. Is there anything special you would like me to say tomorrow?” John Solberg had not left her side.

  “A mighty man of God has gone home to be with his Lord. And then tell them all what they need to do so they can see Jesus in heaven also. I trust you to keep it simple.”

  “May I ask if
anyone has something to say?”

  “If you want. But remind them that Haakan was a simple man who shunned praise. Please do not embarrass him.”

  Solberg’s chuckle barely disturbed the peace in the room. “Do you mind if others come through the night to be with you?”

  “If they want, but it is not necessary. I don’t care what is proper.”

  Memories, like reliving their life together, floated through her mind as the hours of darkness flowed by. With the first light of dawn, she rose, stretched, kissed him one last time and, after dipping some warm water from the reservoir, went to her bedroom to wash and dress for the day. The sight of her wearing the daisy-sprigged blue dimity dress always made his eyes light up, and so that was what she put on. She wove a narrow blue ribbon through her braids, wrapped coronet fashion around her head, and mopped her tears again when she caught herself staring at their bed. She would now sleep there alone.

  The rattling of the grate said that Freda was up and preparing to set the coffee on.

  “You go out and watch the sunrise, see the world come alive.” Freda held up a hand when Ingeborg started to say something. “No, please let me do this.” Freda ducked her head. “Please.”

  The rooster crowing heralded the day’s beginning. Chirps turned to birdsong as the morning breeze kissed the leaves of the cottonwood, setting in motion another part of the morning song. A cowbell clanged as the cows headed for the barn to be milked, a calf bawled, the rooster continued his announcements of the day. And the aroma of coffee drifted out the door.

  When Freda brought out the coffee and cakes from the night before, she set the tray down and sank into the cushioned chair. “Morning comes and the day goes on, as if nothing has changed.”

  “Joy comes in the morning.”

  “I know that’s what the Bible says, but there will be plenty of weeping today too. I saw Thorliff and Andrew down at the shop. The coffin is ready.”

  “We will use a couple of the sheets to line it.”

  They arrived at the church an hour early, but people were already lined up to pay their respects. They filed past the coffin once it was set up on more sawhorses, and often went back outside to wait for the service. Haakan had touched many lives through the years.

  When there was no more standing room, let alone sitting room, Reverend Solberg opened all the windows and doors so those outside could hear the service. Ingeborg felt as though she were floating, and while she listened to those who spoke, she found to her relief that the well of tears seemed to have been drained dry. Thank you, Lord, rolled over and over in her mind and soul.

  When the service ended, many of the people grouped at the graveside while many others set up the tables and benches for the meal Hildegunn had organized. Since everyone came bearing food, there would be plenty to eat.

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Reverend Solberg conducted the burial in the graveyard attached to the church. Another new grave was not far away, but for that burial there had been no crowd. Only a few mourners had attended that service.

  One day, she promised the man she’d been married to for over twenty years, I will be with you again, and we can worship our God together, face-to- face. It might be a long time, so don’t get impatient. She sprinkled the rich black soil on the top of the wooden box, as did her children, and stepped back.

  “I want my grandpa to come back. I miss him.” Inga’s voice rang true. She broke away from her parents and ran to Ingeborg, who hugged her close.

  “Me too,” she whispered.

  Together they stood until the benediction trumpeted out across the prairie. She said it with Reverend Solberg. “‘The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.’ Amen.”

  Lord God, I will not get through this without your peace. I know the days ahead will be hard.

  She turned when Thorliff and Andrew surrounded her. “Takk. Tusen takk,” she said to those around her. With Inga clutching her hand, she followed her sons.

  “Would you rather go home?” Andrew whispered in her ear.

  “No, here is good. All will be well.”

  Hildegunn Valders stopped her and, to her surprise, put both arms around Ingeborg and hugged her close. “I am so sorry, dearest Ingeborg. So very sorry.”

  Ingeborg hugged her back. “Tusen takk for all you have done.”

  “You know our women. They do what needs to be done. And death does not usually warn us to get ready.”

  “Ah, so true.”

  Ingeborg moved among the people, thanking them for coming and inviting them to go ahead and eat. She turned with a smile when Joshua Landsverk and Johnny tuned their guitars and started to play. One of the new men stopped to talk with them and then left, soon returning with a fiddle. Another did the same and returned with a concertina, and then a mouth organ joined in. They played hymns and favorite songs and asked for requests.

  That night in bed, Ingeborg lay looking up at the ceiling. “Dearest Haakan, I hope you enjoyed your going-away party. I know it was nothing like the welcome-home party you’ve been enjoying, but we did our best to celebrate your life.”

  She rolled onto her side and laid her arm across the place where he always slept. And the tears flowed again.

  Chapter 33

  Ingeborg wiped the flowing drops from her forehead and returned to her churn. Ka-chunk, ka-chunk. Somehow, slamming the dasher felt remarkably good. Lord God, you didn’t warn me I would miss him so much. I don’t remember it being this bad last time, when Roald died.

  Ka-chunk. She listened to the dasher so she’d hear the difference when the butter was rising. Ka-chunk. She slammed it three more times, and the tune changed. She slammed it a couple more times, then took it all to the sink, where she could pour the contents into a sieve over a big bowl so the butter could drain before she washed it. Like kneading bread, churning butter could bring a sense of peace. First the physical exertion and then the beauty of a loaf of bread or a full butter mold.

  “Grandma, come quick,” Inga hollered through the screen door.

  Ingeborg set the dasher down and followed the giggles around the porch.

  Jumping up and down, Inga was pointing down the lane.

  Tears welled up in Ingeborg’s eyes and rolled over the lids. The old Indian man, a little girl at his side, made her heart leap.

  “Emmy’s coming home. Emmy!” Inga leaped from the porch and ran down the walk, out the fence gate, and down the lane. “Emmy!”

  The little girl looked up at the old man and darted past him. The two little girls met and threw their arms around each other.

  Ingeborg could hear their giggles on the breeze. Tears so near the surface blurred her vision yet again, but at least this time, they were tears of joy. She waited, delighting in the picture of the reunited friends, who were more like the sisters that neither child had. When they reached the gate, the two darted up to the porch, and Ingeborg instantly had a little girl hugging her on each side.

  “See, Grandma? I knew Emmy would come back.” Inga looked up at her. “You got tears again.”

  Ingeborg sniffed and, with an arm around each, hugged them tight. “But good tears this time.” She smiled at Wolf Runs, whose face looked more deeply lined than ever, if that were possible. “Thank you for bringing her back.”

  He nodded and, removing a bundle from his shoulders, set it on the step.

  “Please, come sit on the back porch, and I will bring you something to eat.”

  He nodded again. “Thank you.”

  Emmy picked up her bundle, and the two girls chattered their way around the house on the porch. Then the back screen door slammed.

  “You came early,” Ingeborg said. School was still more than a week away. The years before he’d brought her with only a day or two to spare.

  “Great Spirit said Grandma needed blessing.”

  Ingeborg closed her eyes for a moment, her t
hank-you winging heavenward. “Our Holy Spirit always knows what we need. Thank you for listening.”

  He stopped and so did she.

  “The child can stay with you now?”

  Confused, she asked, “Through the school year again?”

  “No. I will not be back. Her home with you now.”

  She turned and looked into his eyes. “Are you ill?”

  He half shrugged. “Better this way. I am old.” He waited.

  “Ja, Emmy will always have a home here, and I thank you.”

  “Good.”

  “What about Two Shells? Will she come too?”

  “Maybe later, if you want.”

  “She is always welcome too.”

  They continued on around to the back porch. “You sit and rest. I will bring you a plate.” She paused again. “If you would like to stay here too . . .” Was that a smile she saw?

  He settled into a chair and closed his eyes.

  She fixed him a sandwich with meat and cheese, and then added a dish of applesauce and some cookies. The girls came thundering down the stairs and ran out the door, but this time Emmy stopped the screen door from slamming.

  “Going to see the calves and the kittens in the barn,” Inga sang over her shoulder.

  Ingeborg brought the plate out to the uncle and set it beside him, then returned to finish washing the butter. She’d dumped the earlier washings into the bucket for the pigs and chickens. When this final wash water ran clear, she salted the golden butter, patted it into the three waiting molds, and set them in the icebox. Once she’d scrubbed the churn, she went outside to set it in the sunshine to dry. Wolf Runs was gone, but by the plate lay a dark feather tipped in white.

  Emmy and Inga skipped up the steps.

  “Did you tell your uncle good-bye?”

  Emmy nodded. “I can stay here?”

  “This is your home.”

  She clutched Ingeborg around the waist. “Someday I will go back.” Her sniffs were the only indication of her tears.

  “Someday, when you are ready, we will take you back, but this is your home for now.”

  A child. God had given her another child. For keeps this time?