“Would you two like to have coffee with me?” At their nods, Ingeborg returned to the kitchen, half listening to their chatter.
“Where is Manny?” Inga turned and told Emmy about the boy who had come to live there too.
“He is driving wagon for the harvesters.” While the harvesters were at work in their fields now, they’d not moved the noisy separator out by the barn yet. She set the tray down on the table, and the three sat down.
“I told Emmy about Grandpa going home to heaven.” Inga stared at her grandmother. “Will you always have sad eyes? I miss him too.”
“I hope not.” Please, dear God, bring back the joy, so I no longer have sad eyes.
“Miriam, there is a call for you.” Deborah nodded toward the telephone on the wall in the hospital office.
“For me?” Fear hit her stomach as if driven by a sledgehammer.
“Mrs. Korsheski, from the hospital in Chicago.”
“Thank you.” Her heart racing triple time, Miriam kept herself from running, either to the office or out the front door. Breathe! The voice in her head was not a suggestion but a command. Breathe.
Dread cramped her stomach as she picked up the earpiece.
“Miriam Hastings.”
“This is Nurse Frasier from Nurse Korsheski’s office. Hold please.”
Please, please—not my mother.
The familiar voice came back on the line. “Miriam, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but your mother is failing, and we have decided that we should let you know. If you want to see her again this side of heaven, you need to come now. And, yes, she is asking for you.”
“I . . . I have no money for a train ticket.”
“We know. The hospital there will pay for your ticket. We will talk with Dr. Bjorklund and give her instructions to that effect.”
But why are you doing this? That and other questions screamed through her mind. “Of course I want to see her, but—”
“I am afraid we are calling late, and you have missed today’s train. But can you be on the next one tomorrow?”
“Yes. Yes, I will.”
“One thing we ask is that you will return to Blessing to finish out your year there.”
But what about my family? I have no choice—or do I? “Th-thank you.”
“Someone will meet you at the station.”
Why are they . . . ? How can this be?
She must have muttered some other unintelligible something, but she only knew for sure the earpiece was no longer in her hand, and she was huddled in a chair, trying to cry silently but unable to hold back the sobs. Not my mother. Please don’t take my mother. I need her. We need her. Oh, please . . . As she quieted and mopped her eyes, she realized someone had been rubbing her shoulders and upper back.
“Shh, all will be well. You have family here now too, and you are not alone.”
“Dr. Bjorklund?” Miriam blinked away the fog.
“Ja. Mrs. Korsheski telephoned me too.” Her hand kept making circular motions, gently, like the kiss of an angel. “You will go and take care of your mother, and when you return, we will be here. Your Blessing family.”
But what if I can’t come back? Or don’t?
“Your shift will be done shortly. Go to the nurses’ room and wash your face, and you will feel much better. Do your report and please make sure your notes are clear on the charts and anything else you can think of.”
“Wh-why?” She clamped jaw and eyes against another freshet.
“Why what?” Astrid cocked her head to the side.
“Why is everyone being so kind to me?”
“Who is everyone?”
“Mrs. Korsheski, the hospital, you . . .” She shook her head, a frown pushing her starched hat higher.
Astrid smiled. “My mor always says you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but then I always wondered what to do with the flies. But Reverend Solberg would say to be kind to one another. Kindness is a highly underrated trait.”
“There’s no kindness where I come from. Other than in my family, and sometimes even that is questionable.” And not everyone in Blessing is kind either. Some of them had not treated either her or Father Devlin kindly.
Trygve was waiting for her the next morning when she was ready to leave for the train station. “I can carry your bags for you.”
“I only have this one suitcase.”
“Then I will carry that.” He took it from her hand as if she’d volunteered it.
Mrs. Jeffers gave her one last hug at the edge of the porch. “You hurry back now, and please greet your mother from us here.” She tucked an envelope into Miriam’s hand. “For your mother.”
Miriam’s eyebrows turned into question marks.
“Never fear, just from one mother to another.” She clasped Miriam’s shoulders. “You are a fine nurse and a finer daughter.”
“Th-thank you.”
A breeze teased the tendrils of hair that refused to remain confined in the net atop her head where her hat perched precariously. She paused at the step and looked out over the riotous rose beds and to the garden. How she wished her mother could have seen all this.
“You needn’t say good-bye to this place. You will be coming back.” Trygve stared up at her. For a change she was a bit higher than he, but not much.
“But if I do, it will not be the same.”
“True. There is a sense in the air that fall is coming soon. We always feel that toward the end of harvest.” He held out a hand.
She looked from his face to his hand and back. Then laid her hand in his.
Sure enough, it was still there, that strange tremor or something that singed her skin whenever they touched. She should have put her gloves on. It was still there, even though she’d spouted off to him after that miserable church service.
At the station, he made sure she had her ticket. They could hear the whistle announcing the train over the prairie to the west.
As it drew nearer, Trygve took her hand again. The silence lengthened. Silences used to be comfortable between them, but now the tension thrummed like a finely stretched violin string. But the music had gone out of it.
He stared into her eyes. “Miriam, I believe I have loved you ever since I first saw you. The most important thing I have to know is . . . do you love me?” The words rippled out and into her heart like a pebble in a pond. Or in this case, a boulder.
Miriam closed her eyes in fear that he could see into her heart. Did she? Did she really? Could she—so soon?
Yes. Maybe—in spite of being furious? Her heart swelled with love for this man. But. That love would have to be stomped on like burning coals until it died. There were no answers to this but for her to leave and for him to stay here. She’d heard broken hearts took a long time to heal. Be that as it may, hers would just have to heal, time or no.
“Trygve, I cannot change my mind.”
“Cannot or will not? And besides, you did not answer my question.” He took her hands in his. She could hear the train far down the track, the train that would carry her away. He squeezed gently. “Please answer me.”
I cannot lie.
You must.
She looked down at their hands, unable to let him see. Slowly she shook her head. “I think I am coming to care for you, Trygve, but I do not think it is the kind of love to bring to a marriage.” There. She’d said it.
The train whistle blew, too much closer, too quickly.
“Look at me.” Had he shouted, the words could not have penetrated her heart any deeper. The heat from his hands burned into her skin, muscle, and bone, then flew like an arrow straight into her heart.
She raised her gaze, fighting to keep the tears from overflowing.
“Your eyes say one thing and your mouth another. No matter what is going on in this town, this is not the end for us. I will find a way.”
The screeching train wheels echoed her heart’s cry. Sparks flew from the iron wheels on the iron track, like the sparks that leaped bet
ween them whenever they met.
She tugged her hands loose and stepped back. “Good-bye, Trygve. And thank you for bringing me to the station.”
“This is not the end. On my life, I promise you, this is not the end.” He picked up her valise and handed it off to the conductor.
“Good-bye.” What a dreadful word! And she would have to say it again far too soon, to her dear mother.
Would all of life be nothing but good-byes?
“Remember.” He gripped her hands. “I want you to know, and to understand, that if you do not come back, I will come for you.”
“I . . . uh . . .” She stuttered to a stop at the look in his eyes. A thousand honeybees buzzed in her mind. Unable to break the lock of his gaze, she swallowed. Think of something! “Uh . . .” She started to argue, but that faded away.
“I will.” He nodded and glanced toward the steaming behemoth screeching down at them.
She ordered her backbone to do its job, pushed her shoulders back, and retrieved her hand. “Thank you for escorting me, Mr. Knutson.”
“My name is Trygve.” One eyebrow raised slightly. He leaned forward, a barely visible motion.
He’s going to kiss me. She took a step backward and almost stumbled on the stool the conductor banged against the wooden platform.
He passed her suitcase to the conductor, took her hand to assist her onto the stool, and stepped back. He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “Blessing and I will be waiting.” The door sighed closed.
She found a seat at the window.
He was watching. She must wave. It was the least she could do. She raised a hand to the window.
He smiled brightly. Glowed. Waved back.
Her new family? No, Dr. Bjorklund, her family waited in Chicago. By some miracle her mother was still alive and waiting for her.
One of the passengers called to someone through an open window. “We will be back.”
No, I will not be back. My place is in Chicago. Mama, please wait for me. She straightened her spine, planted her feet flat on the floor, and stared toward the front of the car, where the conductor was coming through picking up tickets.
Against her determination, she looked out the window again. Sure enough, Trygve waited, waved again, and touched the brim of his hat. She heard him in her mind. My name is Trygve, and I will come for you.
He was a determined man, but her family needed her in Chicago. No matter what her heart wanted to do.
If only she knew for certain what her heart wanted: A life in Blessing or a life in Chicago. Was there any possibility of a compromise? Her mother would say that God has a plan. Could she trust that?
Lauraine Snelling is the award-winning author of over 70 books, fiction and nonfiction, for adults and young adults. Her books have sold over 2 million copies. Besides writing books and articles, she teaches at writers’ conferences across the country. She and her husband make their home in Tehachapi, California.
Books by Lauraine Snelling
* * *
SONG OF BLESSING
To Everything a Season
An Untamed Heart
RED RIVER OF THE NORTH
An Untamed Land
A New Day Rising
A Land to Call Home
The Reapers’ Song
Tender Mercies
Blessing in Disguise
RETURN TO RED RIVER
A Dream to Follow
Believing the Dream
More Than a Dream
DAUGHTERS OF BLESSING
A Promise for Ellie
Sophie’s Dilemma
A Touch of Grace
Rebecca’s Reward
HOME TO BLESSING
A Measure of Mercy
No Distance Too Far
A Heart for Home
WILD WEST WIND
Valley of Dreams
Whispers in the Wind
A Place to Belong
DAKOTAH TREASURES
Ruby
Pearl
Opal
Amethyst
SECRET REFUGE
Daughter of Twin Oaks
Sisters of the Confederacy
The Long Way Home
A Secret Refuge 3-in-1
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
To Everything a Season Page 28