An Untamed Land
Page 38
“Mor, they have a new calf, come and see.” Thorliff and the boys piled through the doorway.
“You go on out and play,” Agnes said with shooing motions. “We have some catching up to do here.”
“I will come later,” Ingeborg promised.
The boys grabbed cookies from the crockery jar and pelted back out the door.
“Such energy. Uff da.” Agnes shook her head. “They are growing so fast I cannot keep them in clothes. Thank the good Lord that pretty soon they can go barefoot again.”
On the way home, Ingeborg let her gaze roam the prairie. Off to the south, she could see a spiral of smoke from a farm home and another off to the north. The land was indeed getting settled. As they’d been saying, a schoolhouse was needed. Could she afford to donate some of the wood? Or could they make the first one of sod, as they had the houses, and then build a wood structure later?
She clucked the horses into a trot. So much to do.
Winter made one more effort, blanketing the valley in a blizzard that caught many unawares. Ingeborg made it back just in time from a hunting foray. While Lars was an adequate hunter, she rarely missed a shot and knew where all the game trails lay, so he continued to work the land, and she continued to hunt. She dragged the deer carcass into the barn and hung it from the rafters. She would finish dressing it out after chores.
Later, the house seemed so empty with the boys still over at Kaaren’s. Ingeborg didn’t dare brave the whiteout to bring them home. This is what it would have been like had I given the boys away. The thought struck her with the force of a falling tree. She could feel the darkness, heavy as a haystack, pushing her down again, smothering her and taking away her light.
She lit the kerosene lamp with shaking fingers and added wood to the stove, leaving the front lid open so she could see the firelight too. The darkness lurked in the corners of both the soddy and her mind, ready to take over.
Ingeborg paced the room, her arms clutched around her midsection. Was it all to return? Would she never be able to find the light again?
“Oh, my God, help me!” Her words met the shriek of the wind, note for note. “I cannot go through this again.”
The lamp flickered in the draft, the glass chimney darkening with the smoke of it.
Recalling them from the depths of her being, Ingeborg repeated the age-old words. “I will praise the Lord. I will thank you, my God. I will sing a song of praise. The Lord is my refuge, whom shall I fear? I will praise the Lord.” Over and over, she echoed the words of the psalmist.
Finally, Ingeborg stopped and listened. The wind, that howling wind, had died.
When at last she slept, she lay secure in the arms of the everlasting God, and morning brought the sunshine.
One of many things she had learned was that it was better to cry together than to cry alone. Now she could remember Roald without the terrible pain and guilt. Asking for help still took every ounce of her gumption, but even that grew easier with practice.
“Mor!” The boys’ shouts brought her back to the day.
She felt like twirling in place. The joy the day brought was almost too much to contain.
“Mor!”
“I’m coming.”
The two boys, Andrew still in the dress of babyhood, crouched by the south wall of the sod barn where the sun had melted the snow
“See?” Thorliff pointed to a ridge of sod protruding from the wall, just above ground level.
“See?” Andrew mimicked his brother. Sometimes his words were total gibberish, but this word he had conquered.
Ingeborg put an arm around each wriggling body and squatted down with them. A tiny purple violet, framed by round green leaves, nodded at them.
“No, don’t touch.” Thorliff caught his brother’s hand before the violet could disappear in the baby’s clutch.
“Oh, how beautiful!” Ingeborg leaned forward and, nose nearly touching the perfect petals, inhaled. The violet lent her its fragrance. She closed her eyes, savoring this promise of spring. “Smell,” she told her boys.
Thorliff bent over and sniffed. “Smells good.”
Andrew crouched close, stuck his nose over the flower, and blew.
Ingeborg and Thorliff looked at each other and burst out laughing. Andrew looked from one to the other, unsure what the joke was, and then his belly laugh poured forth from his grinning mouth.
Paws, always the boys’ companion, leaped to his feet from where he had been snoozing at the corner of the barn. Something had caught his attention.
Ingeborg, each hand holding that of one of her sons, followed the sound of the barking dog. Paws stood stiff-legged about a hundred feet from the barn, hackles raised on his back and one front leg in the air. He wagged his tail but continued barking.
The sun turned blond hair to golden on the tall man striding through the ankle-deep snow. Between the pack on his back, and the ax balanced on one broad shoulder, he reminded Ingeborg of pictures she’d seen of the Vikings of old. He, too, had shed his dark coat in honor of the sun and wore the sleeves of his loose-fitting white shirt rolled up to his elbows.
“It’s all right, Paws. We can see him. He’s company arriving just in time for dinner.”
“God dag, Mrs. Bjorklund?” He nodded to her and smiled down at each of the boys.
“Ja.” His eyes. They had to be Bjorklund eyes, so intense was the blue.
“I’m Haakan Howard Bjorklund, recently of Minnesota.” He set his ax on the toe of his boot and extended a calloused hand. “My mother wrote and said one of our relatives needed a hand. Since the logging was done for the season, I came to see if I could help.”
“You have the same name as us.” Thorliff stepped forward and looked up—way up.
“Ja, your father is my cousin two times removed.”
“Was.” Ingeborg could talk about it now without crying. After all the tearless months, it seemed she had cried for weeks. Those tears were over now, except for an occasional freshet when something triggered the memories.
“I know.” He looked into her eyes, compassion bringing the tears to the surface. “I’m sorry.”
Ingeborg nodded. “I have the coffee hot, and dinner is nearly ready. Would you like to join us?”
“Most certainly.” Haakan swung his pack to the ground and, after a nod to Thorliff, dug into a pocket. “I have something here I thought a young boy might like.” He pulled out a stick of red-and-white striped candy. “What do you think?”
“For me?” Thorliff looked up at his mother. She nodded.
“Ja, for you.” Haakan gave Thorliff the treat. “And one for your brother.” Andrew received the same. He watched Thorliff and copied his actions, only licking the candy before putting the end in his mouth.
“Not so trusting, is he?”
“No, he always tests the waters first.” Ingeborg swung Andrew up on one hip and led the way to the soddy. “Thank you.”
Thorliff removed the candy from his mouth long enough to mind his manners and say thanks.
Andrew waved the candy in the air. “Tank oo.”
Ingeborg grabbed his fist and lowered it before the candy got stuck in her hair. Once inside the soddy, she motioned Haakan to sit at the table, tied Andrew on a chair across from him, and, after lifting a mug from the warming shelf on the stove, poured their guest a cup of coffee.
Haakan took the cup and sniffed the aroma, his eyes closing in bliss. “Now this is how coffee should smell. Thank you.” He took a sip. “And taste.”
Ingeborg smiled at the compliment. Why was it this man seemed so perfectly at ease here, as if the chair had been waiting for him? She felt a tingle of anticipation race up her spine.
“It looks like spring is really here,” he said.
“Ja, I think it is, too.” She removed the loaves of bread from the oven and set them on the sideboard. If spring could be inside one, it certainly had come to this untamed land. Maybe it took the terrible winter for God to tame her heart.
Snelling, Lauraine, An Untamed Land