“Hi, this is Ragni, can I talk with James Hendricks please?”
“I am sorry, Mr. Hendricks no longer works here.”
Carmen sounded as if Ragni were a stranger. “What?”
“Mr. Hendricks is no longer with us. Would you like to talk with Helene?”
No longer with us, did he die? Was he let go? What? Ragni cleared her throat and tried again. “Carmen, what has happened there?”
“I am sorry, I am unable to discuss this. Would you like to talk with Helene?”
Helene? Why Helene? She sure did well from minor member on my team to—whatever she was now. And Carmen sounds just like a computer recording. Good grief. “Fine. Let me talk with Helene.”
“I am sorry, she’s away from her desk. Would you like her voice mail?”
I would like to strangle you. No, I don’t want her stupid voice mail. Ragni sighed. “Yes, please.” Her voice dripped sugar syrup. Even though she won’t be able to call me back, unless it’s before we leave Dickinson. She left a message and dialed her mother, hoping that she could have her voice under control by the time her mom answered.
The hello sounded less than optimistic.
“Hi, Mom, are you all right?”
“Ragni, I’m so glad you called.” Judy burst into tears, huge gulping sobs.
“What happened?” Tears of sympathy clogged Ragni’s throat.
“I…had to put your father in a-a home yesterday. I-I couldn’t take care of him any l-longer.”
“Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry.” She stared at the ceiling of the truck, hoping to get herself under control, but instead the tears brimmed over and rolled down her cheeks. They cried together.
Her mother sighed a big sigh, sniffed, and continued. “Susan made me do it, but she was right. It was time, but its so hard.”
“Oh, Mom. But its a good place, and they had a room for him. It’s good that Susan was looking ahead.”
“I know. I am so grateful for you two girls. You’re out there taking care of my family home and Susan’s helping here in spite of…”
Ragni caught her breath. “In spite of what, Mom?”
“Well, you know, she…ah…”
She what? What is the big secret? “Mother, you and Susan have been keeping some secret and the time is long past to tell me what’s happening.”
“But you can’t tell Erika.”
“What is going on?”
“Susan had a lumpectomy and is now getting radiation.”
The words lay between them like a writhing snake. “And she never told me?”
“She wasn’t sure before you left, and then she didn’t want to destroy your vacation. Or Erika’s.”
“When was she planning on telling me?” Speaking from between clamped teeth wasn’t easy.
“When you came home. She won’t have to do chemo. They say they got it all.”
“That’s positive news.” But she lied by not telling me. “And what am I supposed to say to Erika when she asks me about her mother? Does Susan realize how perceptive her daughter is?”
“That’s why she sent her with you, to protect her.”
Ragni snorted. “Thanks a heap.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Still next Saturday.” Not that I want to leave here, but what choices do I have? She glanced up to see Paul crossing the parking lot, food bag in hand. “I need to go, Mom. I love you.”
“Me too. Give my love to Erika, and will you tell her about her poppa?”
But not her mother. The words rang without being said. “Sure. Bye, Mom.” Ragni pushed the Off button and rubbed her forehead with her other hand.
“Bad news?” Paul had opened the truck door and stood gazing at her, concern etching ridges in his forehead.
“Ah, yes, I…” Her phone rang and she shook her head as she pressed the Talk button. “Hello?”
“Ragni, this is Helene returning your call.”
“Thank you.” I think. “It seems like there have been some changes there.”
“Yes, some rather major changes. The powers that be let James go…”
“He didn’t die then?”
A slight chuckle as if she thought Ragni was being funny. “No, the party line is that he decided to strike out on his own.”
Meaning that he was fired. For what? And what about my job? “I see. I take it you are no longer on my team?” Were you the saboteur? Was all this in the works before I went on vacation, and no one let the cat out of the bag?
“There has been a major re-org, and our former team system has been dissolved. We do have a new position for you, and we will discuss that on your return.”
The feline purring tone was driving Ragni nuts. “Why don’t you just give me a hint now?”
“If you would prefer.”
“I do and I would.” Ragni kept a smile plastered on her face so that her voice wouldn’t bite.
“In accordance with our new budget constraints—”
Good grief, I don’t want to play their games. “Stop. Helene, wait. Write this into your budget. I quit. I do hope you have a nice day. Good-bye.” Ragni flipped her phone shut. Woman, what did you just do?
“What is it?” Paul’s voice came as through a filter.
“Just a minute.” Ragni inhaled and ordered her lungs to function correctly.
A tether to sanity, Paul’s hand warmed her shoulder. She turned in her seat to face him, wanting to throw herself into his arms and bawl against his chest. Her whole life had just been thrown up in the air and was coming down in scattered pieces, none larger than a postage stamp.
“Okay,” Paul said. “I can tell you’ve been dumped in a cow pie, so let me help you.”
In spite of herself, Ragni laughed. “just another sorry tale in a rather sorry life.” She flipped off the comment and immediately felt like a cry sissy. Whining was not an attractive trait. Neither was swearing, the other reaction she was trying to stifle. “And besides, if you try to help me up out of that mire on the ground, you might end up wearing some yourself.”
“Won’t be the first time and most likely not the last.” His fingers dug into the muscles in her shoulder, which she could feel twanging like an overtightened guitar string. “How about you tell me while I drive so we can get these supplies to the labor force before they run out of things to do?”
“Fine with me.” Besides, it is easier to think and talk when your hand isn’t doing good stuff to my shoulder.
She buckled her seat belt as he started the truck. “Oh, what have I done?” She paused. Was that a cheering section she felt going on in her middle?
When he waited at a stop sign, he glanced over at her. “Shoot.”
“I think I feel like I’ve been shot. Two phone calls. The last one from the company I work for. There has been a re-org, my boss was let go, and a woman from my team is now in his place. She assumed I would be thrilled with their games.”
“You know what happens when one assumes anything?”
“Yes. And I don’t feel like being made into that biblical word for donkey.” His chuckle made her glad she could still retain a sense of humor. “So I quit.”
He turned to stare at her, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You quit.”
“I did.” Talk about a shocker. “I had no idea this re-org stuff was coming, and yet it couldn’t have just happened overnight.” She shook her head and reached for the soft drink container he’d put in the holder. I quit. I can’t believe I did this.
“That’s Diet Coke.”
“Good. My favorite.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“The cans in your garbage might have been a clue.”
“Oh.” She smiled back at him.
“And the other call?”
She looked away, checking the scenery through a sheen of tears. “They had to put my father in a nursing home yesterday. I’m sure in the high-security wing for those with dementia. Mom said she could no longer handle him, so he must h
ave either hit her or wandered off and gotten lost.” She shook her head, slowly, as if too tired for speech.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, me too.” Her sigh hurt. “And that’s not all. My sister has had both a lumpectomy and radiation, without telling either me—with whom she has always shared everything—or her daughter, who fears something is terribly wrong. Which it is. Or was. They say they got it all.” She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms as if she were chilled. But the chill was inside where stroking hands couldn’t reach. “I told my mother I’d be home soon to help her, but she no longer really needs my help.”
“You can help Erika.”
“I can’t tell her. That’s her mother’s job.”
“No, but you are here for her, and she knows that. Besides, she is having a wonderful time.”
“I know.” Me too. And to think I didn’t want to come out here. She turned to watch the man driving. He turned to smile at her and reached over to take her hand.
“It will all work out.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I have an inside track with the head designer. He said so.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Nope, He said so. You know you believe that.”
“I know, but—” She stopped herself. “I’m glad someone believes God will work all this out.” Right now I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of buffalo.
I quit, I really did it. Did I do the right thing? Lord, I know You know what’s coming, but would You mind giving me a clue?
Was he angry because he’d learned of her paints?
Nilda tossed and turned in her bed several times before she could get comfortable. The look on his face in the store haunted her. Had he been like that from the time he picked her up at the train station those months before, she might not have stayed. Or at least not fallen in love with him—which was a reality still hard to believe. But she knew when the seed of love was planted: when he was kind to her daughter, to Eloise, who reigned queen in her heart. His infrequent smiles watered the seeds; his rush to the windmill that day was the sun beginning to bring those seeds to life.
So what had happened? All was well until they went to the store. The ride into town would remain one of those memories she could take out and burnish when needed. She thought again of leaving, and this time the thought lingered. I don’t know where we would go. But I cannot bear this man’s changes any longer. She woke long before the cock crowed and tiptoed into the kitchen, not putting on her shoes until she sat on the front stoop. If she started breakfast, she would wake the men and there was no need for anyone else to be awake at this hour. If she lit a lamp, it would draw the bugs. The pots of pigments lay like jewels in her reticule. She closed her eyes and pictured the design she would paint above the door frame. Could she include a blessing? In English or Norwegian? A small piece of herself—a memory. A cool breeze trifled with her hair and bussed her cheek.
“Are you all right?” Joseph Peterson spoke from within the door behind her.
“I am fine.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Why would he ask that? His voice wore none of the abruptness of the day before. Was it really him or a figment of her imagination?
“Not at all. I did not want to wake you, but now that you are up, I will make coffee if you want.”
“No, no thank you.” He started to open the screen door so she had to stand to let him out. He held the door so it closed lightly, not the usual banging of the spring, and then sat down, patting the stoop beside him.
When she sat, she wished she could spring up and move away; the heat of him, the smell of him were so intense she felt overwhelmed. She turned her knees slightly away to let more air between them, but that only put her shoulder into closer proximity. Her breath caught on something in her throat and stumbled.
“I have something to ask you.” His voice rumbled in the soft darkness.
Dawn was only a dream on the eastern horizon, but the sky was lighter than utter darkness. Did the stars indeed shed enough light so that she could see his outline, or did she only feel it and know it by her heart?
“Ja?”
“Will you marry me?”
“Mr. Peterson!” She must have moved as if she would jump and run, because his hand on her arm locked her into her position.
“I know this is abrupt, but…”
But what? What has happened that he…? The words sunk into her mind. Marry you? Of course I will marry you. I will dance among the stars for the joy of this. But I cannot. Her dream crashed and shattered, glass tinkling about her feet.
“Why?” she asked. Why are you asking me now? Why do you want to marry me? You’ve shown no signs of love, at least that I have seen.
“Because it is proper. You’re an unmarried woman, I mean, out here with two men…” Now it was his turn to stumble over words. “You could still have your own room and, I mean…”
“I see.” So something has happened that makes him think he needs to marry me, not just have me as a hired woman. A picture of the two women at the store came to her mind. “Mr. Peterson, please, I do not believe this is necessary.” She kept her voice gentle, like the sweet air brushing against her face. Tell him your secret. The voice was insistent, like it had been so many times before. She ignored it and went on. “What seems like a long time ago to me now…after a terrible loss…I promised myself that I would never marry a man unless I loved him with all my heart and he loved me in return.”
“Who’s to say that I don’t love you?” His voice took on his normally gruff tone.
Tell him your secret! The inner war continued. She wanted to run, to hide among the trees. Why had he come out here and ruined this beautiful morning? She sighed, both inwardly and audibly. If I tell him, he’ll take back his offer. So tell him.
She ignored the screaming in her mind and focused on what she had seen. Surely if she brought this up, he would leave and take his proposal with him. She knit her fingers together for support. “Mr. Peterson, I have a feeling that something has happened in your life that makes love come very hard, if at all.”
Joseph Peterson sighed. “First of all, would you please call me Joseph? If we are to be married, I think Mrs. Torkalson and Mr. Peterson are a bit formal.” He touched his chest. She could see the movement of his hand now. “I am Joseph.” He looked at her, waiting for her answer.
Did you not hear me at all? She took in a deep breath and let it out. “I am Nilda. Ragnilda, really, but all my life Nilda.” Did you not hear me? I cannot marry you. She wished she could turn and see his face, but for some reason she could not move.
“I think I must tell you a story.” His pause made her try to think of something to fill it. When he continued, she sighed in relief. “Years ago when I was a very young man, I fell in love with a girl who lived near us. She loved me, and we talked of getting married when we were older. But my older brother, who inherited the farm when my father died, also loved her, or said he did, and she married him. I left.” Barbs of steel replaced the gentleness in his voice. “I never spoke to them again, and I never will. I came west and made my home here.”
Oh, you poor man. The easy way he had been sitting now radiated with anger. She could feel it rising, like a fetid cloud. Again the urge to run made her start to rise, but she refrained.
Oh, Lord, what do I say? How do I help this man? She waited seeking wisdom, all the while her heart weeping for him. “The Bible says that not forgiving someone will eat one up, dry up the bones, and when bitterness grows it is like quack grass.” Nilda wished she could look deep into his eyes, but they were still dark holes in his face. “That’s not exactly the verses but good parts of them.”
“I grew up going to church, I know Scripture also. It says an eye for an eye. I did not exact my vengeance. Instead I left, for I could not bear to see them together. Part of the farm had been promised to me.”
“But I think you will not be able to l
ove again until you have forgiven them.” I cannot believe you are saying such things to him. Before he orders you away, you will pack your bags when the sun rises, and if you must, you will walk to town and get on that train going east.
And leave my broken heart behind? If necessary.
The voices in her head drowned out the song of the crickets. Or was it the predawn hush that daily fell upon the earth? Either way, a tear dripped onto her clenched fingers. If he could not forgive his brother, he will never forgive my secret either. The agony of leaving—but she knew she could stay no longer. It would hurt too much. He says he loves me, but those are just words. He knows not what love is, not with hate in his heart.
The rooster made his first attempt at rising the dawn, a scratchy attempt, but the sky had lightened considerably.
“We are not finished with this yet.” He rose and stretched. “Be assured, we are not done.” He smoothed his hair back and settled his hat in place. “I believe I will go milk Daisy.”
I will paint my design over the doorway before I go. To leave something of me and my love here. With that promise to herself in hand, Nilda returned to the house and lifted the round stove lids and the divider, setting them aside to rekindle the fire. I cannot marry a man who does not love me. I have been a convenience before; I will not be again.
“Today we start cutting the oats,” Joseph announced at the end of breakfast, when she refilled his coffee cup.
Very good, that gives me time to paint my design. Then I will leave.
But when she went out to the garden, the beans were ready to be picked again. She couldn’t bear to let them go to waste after all her hard work. So she and Eloise picked the beans, snapped them, and set another boiler of full jars to steaming. Once that was done, she had to make dinner, ringing the bar when the sun was straight up, like Mr. Peterson, or rather Joseph, had requested, nay ordered. Definitely, her mind was in a dither. She looked over the oat field at the southern end of the hay field and saw Joseph halt the team pulling the mower and unhitch it. He came striding across the field, behind the horses, kicking her heart into high gear again. She went back inside to dish up the meal while the men unharnessed the team and let them into the corral.
The Brushstroke Legacy Page 29