A Touch of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  She watched Sophie settle Hamre in to nursing. “Is he staying awake longer so he doesn’t want to eat as often?”

  “Somewhat.” Sophie peeked under the blanket at her son. “Garth can never seem to hold these babies enough. Every evening he sits and rocks them, one in each arm. He says it helps make up for when he was away from Linnie. That little girl of his would have nothing to do with him when he went to Minneapolis to visit at Christmas, but she warmed up to him a bit sooner when he went back to sell his house.”

  Since Joy was still sleeping, Grace stood. “Think I’ll go on home. Wish you could come with me.” Should I offer again to spend the night, or did Sophie not answer before on purpose?

  “Me too. But even more I wish I could show you Mr. Wiste’s house.”

  Why don’t you want me to stay the night, and why do you keep talking to me about his house? Her head ached a little at the many twists and emotions their conversation took.

  “It’s going to be your house.”

  “Soon, but for now it’s not.”

  Grace waved and walked down the steps to the grass Lemuel kept mowed. The garden was huge, and she waved to the young black man out hoeing. She should have been doing the same today. The large round leaves of hollyhocks filled a bed on the eastern side of the house, while lilies of the valley sent a sweet fragrance to welcome her as she reached the street front. It immediately relaxed her. She noticed a man walking toward her from the direction of the flour mill and waved when she realized it was Toby. Maybe he’ll offer to walk me home. She waited for him to meet her. He looked tired, even with his fedora shading his eyes, eyes that did not brighten with his smile.

  “Hello.” Please be happy to see me.

  “You visiting with Sophie?”

  She nodded. “You were working at the mill today?”

  “Yeah, it’s almost finished.”

  “You didn’t come to the fish fry.” Her hands clenched the paper-wrapped rhubarb bread Mrs. Sam had insisted she take home to Mor.

  “No time.”

  Toby, talk to me. What is wrong? “Why don’t you come to our house for supper?” She couldn’t believe she’d suggested such a thing.

  He shook his head. “Sorry. I’ve agreed to help my mother tonight.”

  “How about tomorrow night?” She reached out and touched his arm. Her frustration made her tongue thick, the words harder to say. Grace, if your mother heard this, she would be appalled. Why am I doing this? It must be because of what Sophie said.

  When he stepped back away from her as if he’d been burned, she swallowed hard. He can’t even bear my touch. Pain seared her soul.

  “Sorry, Grace, I just don’t have time right now.” He touched one finger to his hat brim and nearly broke into a run getting away from her.

  He didn’t have to be rude. She stared at his sweat-stained back. Here I think I’m in love with you and you can’t even spend five minutes in my company. Even friends don’t treat each other like that. Grace thought over the list of questions Sophie had asked. She honestly wasn’t sure how to answer them with Toby, although she was clear about her thoughts concerning Jonathan—she knew she wasn’t in love with him. Did her uncertainty mean she really wasn’t in love with Toby? But he was—she thought he was—her best friend, at least her best male friend, and she had often heard Mor and Tante Ingeborg say how important friendship was in a marriage. Grace rubbed her forehead as the headache returned.

  JONATHAN LATCHED THE GATE to the pigpen and then checked it again. Embarrassment and guilt still rode him like spurs. He’d never realized how important a garden could be to a family until the rampaging pigs did so much damage. He’d never realized a lot of things until he came west. Tonight he needed to write to his family again and share his list of learned things. One of which was that money could buy a lot of comforts, and did in his family’s case. Something else he had learned—but not something he felt he could tell them— was that money did not buy love in a family.

  He picked up a stick and leaned over the wooden fence to scratch the big sow’s back. She’d stand there grunting in contentment for as long as he’d take time to scrape the stick up and down her arched back. He’d also not known how smart pigs were or any of the farm animals, actually. But then, his knowledge had been restricted to dogs and horses.

  On Saturday there would be a house raising for Garth Wiste’s sister and her family, who were moving to Blessing from Minneapolis. The idea that half the community would turn out to do such a thing intrigued him. Astrid said there would be a party that evening after the house raising. Perhaps he would be able to dance with Grace. Always lately, it seemed, his thoughts turned to Grace.

  Jonathan picked up the buckets and took them back to the barn. The whey from the cheese house filled two barrels a day, which they fed twice daily to the pigs and chickens. He’d hauled four barrels down from the cheese house the day before—two for here and two to Andrew’s barn. Today he was to take the wagon and pick up full milk cans at three other farms, then deliver them to the cheese house and dump them into the tank, where the first stage of cheese making began.

  Life was never dull around here, that was for sure. If his mother could see him now, she would be appalled. The idea made him smile.

  Up at the house he found all the women in the shade shelling peas—the peas that weren’t in the abundance needed due to his carelessness with the gate, so the hogs got out and into the garden. “I’m on my way with the milk cans.” He watched as Grace popped open a pod with her thumb and tossed the peas into her mouth. “Those aren’t cooked.”

  “Didn’t you ever eat peas straight from the garden?” Astrid looked at him like he was missing a body part, a look she had perfected and he saw frequently. Grace’s eyes twinkled as she munched and then handed him a full pea pod.

  He started to slit it open. Grace shook her head, as did Astrid.

  “No, this is the easy way.” Astrid held up a pod, ran her thumbnail down the seam, and laid it open, then scraped the peas into her bowl. “See?”

  He followed her example and tossed the peas into his mouth. The crisp crunch and sweet flavor made him want more. “So why don’t we eat them this way instead of cooking them?”

  Ingeborg laughed. “We are canning these for winter. The creamed peas we had last night were cooked. Are you saying those weren’t as good?” Like mother, like daughter. They did love to tease him.

  “No comment.” He grinned back at her. At this time of day, his mother would be in the morning room, enjoying a cup of tea and perhaps writing letters or planning the next week’s menus or the guest list for a party. If the peas they ate came in pods, only Cook or her helper would know. “Do you need anything from town?”

  “Thank you for reminding me. There’s a stack of mail on the kitchen table to be mailed.”

  “I’ll take care of that.”

  “And take a couple of cookies that are cooling there.” Her comment followed him into the house.

  The sun was edging close to vertical by the time he’d picked up full milk cans from three farms and dropped the mail off at the post office, dodging Mrs. Valders’ questions, as he’d learned the extent of her inquisitiveness on previous trips. His dealings with Mrs. Valders gave him a vague sympathy for the son he’d heard about who tended to lose his temper easily. He heard the ringing of the triangle when he turned the team into the lane. The cans rattled and clanged as he urged the horses into a slow trot. He needed to get the cans into the cool of the cheese house before he went in for dinner. More and more this way of life felt so natural and New York a foreign place where he had been raised but never really belonged.

  Saturday morning breakfast wore an air of hilarity. While raising a house sounded like a lot of work to Jonathan, the other men talked like this was a huge party. Haakan had spent the evening before sharpening saws, and he’d explained that while there were usually teams that raced to build the walls of a barn, this house had come ready to put together like a jigsaw puz
zle.

  “You’ll see what we mean when we get there. You ever used a hammer and saw before?”

  “Only on the fencing.” Pounding in staples took a different skill than nails, as he’d learned at Andrew’s.

  “Make sure you bring your leather gloves.” Haakan held up his cup for a refill. “We’ll go on ahead, and the women will bring dinner in by noon. Astrid, are you and Grace the water girls today?”

  “Most likely.” Astrid turned from the dishpan on the stove. “We’ll come in an hour or two.”

  “Don’t forget that tomorrow is the farewell for Penny and Hjelmer at church.” Ingeborg set the coffeepot back on the stove. “This surely is a busy time.”

  “I don’t want Penny to leave.” Astrid dumped a plate in the rinse water with enough force to cause a splash that spread across the stove, steaming and sizzling as it hit the hot part.

  “No one does.” Ingeborg’s voice thickened.

  Jonathan glanced up to see Haakan’s jaw tighten. None of the Bjorklunds had been happy with the precipitous sale of the store to an outside buyer. There had been some rather heated discussions around this kitchen table, but Penny said the deal was done and that was that.

  When Andrew drove up in the wagon with the Knutsons, Haakan and Jonathan tossed their tools in and joined the others. Other wagons arrived at the same time they did, and the older men moved from stack to stack of lumber, checking supplies against the manifest, the instructions, and the plans. Within a few minutes, the assignments had been made and Jonathan joined a crew of Haakan, Pastor Solberg, Gus Baard, and Samuel to begin laying the floor joists across the basement.

  As soon as Astrid and Grace arrived, they called for a coffee break, serving both hot coffee and lemonade. The men and boys gathered around, joking about which was the slowest team.

  The sun beat down as the walls went up. Jonathan handed the proper lumber to those on his team and pounded a few nails into place. At least he could usually drive a nail in straight with four slams now, not like Haakan with three and sometimes two. Milking cows and moving milk cans had vastly strengthened his arm and back muscles, so this work wasn’t as miserable as his first.

  They had the first floor framed in by noon, including some of the lower siding.

  Jonathan observed Grace watching someone during dinner. When he realized she was surreptitiously observing Toby Valders, he felt a stab in his heart. Was this the reason she didn’t seem interested in him? Oh, Grace, please … He wasn’t sure what he was asking Grace for, since he was in no position to ask her for anything, but his reaction caught him by surprise. He was concerned too, based on what he’d heard of the other man. He thought Grace deserved someone more caring. Toby Valders was so busy talking with the men around him that he was paying her no attention whatever. Toby accepted a piece of the cake that Rebecca was scooping out onto offered plates, laughing up at her and making her cheeks blush rosy.

  Grace slumped for a moment then straightened her spine and turned to say something to the woman beside her.

  Jonathan mentally applauded her spunk. If she wasn’t sitting between two women, he’d have gone over there and sat down beside her. When Haakan called for the work force to get back to the house, he stood and pulled his leather gloves back on. Settling his hat securely in place, he joined his team members.

  Astrid carried on a continuing banter with the workers that afternoon while she passed dippers of water up to the second floor of the house. Jonathan nailed siding on the wall his team was finishing, accepting the drinks that came by but always looking for Grace.

  “She went over to see Sophie for a bit,” Astrid said while she waited for him to finish with the dipper.

  Jonathan knew it wasn’t sunburn heating the back of his neck. Am I that obvious? He handed back the dipper. Should he ask Astrid? Why not? “Does Toby … I mean is he … or she”—He rolled his eyes. “I mean …”

  “She and Toby have been friends since school days.”

  “But …”

  “Hey, Gould, would you bring me that saw?”

  He turned back. Now wasn’t the time to even be thinking like that. Giving Astrid a thank-you nod, he did as he was asked.

  After a cold drink break midafternoon, which Grace helped serve, two teams moved to the roof, using pulleys to hoist the rafters up to the workers.

  Jonathan paused to watch one long two-by-six rise in the air. Grace walked underneath it, her bucket and dipper in hand. The rope snapped, someone shouted, and Jonathan dove at Grace, knocking her to the ground, shielding her with his body. The end of the wood slapped across his back and glanced off his head before clattering to the ground. Dizzy from the blow to his head, he rolled to the side.

  “Are you all right?” Haakan knelt beside him.

  “H-how’s Grace?”

  “She’s all right—a bit mussed but not injured, thanks to your quick action. Thank God some other wood broke part of the force or you could be—”

  “Seriously hurt.” Pastor Solberg finished the sentence from the other side of Jonathan.

  Haakan probed the back of Jonathan’s head with gentle fingers. “You’re going to have a big knot, but I think your hat protected you. There’s no blood.”

  “Maybe we better have Dr. Elizabeth look at him.”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” Jonathan accepted a hand that reached down to pull him up, but when he moved, pain shot through his shoulder. “I better do it myself.”

  Haakan stood and eased an arm about the young man’s waist. “Let’s do this real easylike.” When they both stood upright, a cheer went up from those around them. “Let’s get you on a bench. Astrid, bring the water bucket.”

  Jonathan looked to find Grace. She stared at him, her face as white as the apron had been before he sent her crashing into the dirt. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, her fingers flashing signs that he couldn’t begin to interpret. She stopped, sucked in a deep breath, and said, “Thank you.” Her focus flew to the pulley overhead and back to the piece of wood, then to him. She turned to her father standing right beside and burst into tears.

  “If that hit her in the head, it mighta killed her,” one of the other men commented.

  Jonathan wanted to take her in his arms himself, but when he took a step toward her, he staggered.

  “Come on, let’s get you sitting back down. You dizzy or nauseous?”

  “Some.” He twisted his shoulders and winced at the pain in the right one. He clenched his fingers and moved his arm; all seemed in working order. Haakan on one side and Pastor Solberg on the other, they walked him to the closest bench and sat him down.

  Astrid held out the dipper of water. “You sure were fast.”

  Seeing there was nothing more they could do, the rest of the crew went back to work on the house.

  “Astrid, is there any ice here?” Haakan asked.

  “There would be some at the boardinghouse. The ice we put in the lemonade is all melted.”

  Haakan glanced around and beckoned to one of the younger boys. “Go over to the boardinghouse and bring back some ice in a wet dish towel. Run, now.”

  He scurried off.

  Jonathan rested his head in his hands, wishing the drummer inside would cease and desist. His back ached but not the stabbing pain of before. His knee must have slammed into a piece of wood, or else the ground was rock hard, for it pulsed too. He felt like throwing up, but another drink of water helped settle his stomach.

  “I’m all right. I’ll just sit here a bit, and then I’ll be back.” Grace might have been killed there. The thought beat worse than the pain. She hadn’t heard the shout. She shouldn’t be in a dangerous place like this. He opened his eyes when he felt someone lay something against the back of his head.

  “Just sit still and I’ll hold this in place.”

  Pastor Solberg stood behind him, his voice as gentle as the one in Jonathan’s head was strident.

  “Hurt?”

  “Yes, sir.”

>   “Cold penetrating does that. Feels worse before it feels better. Doesn’t feel like your skull is cracked, however.”

  “My father always says I have a hard head.”

  “Good thing. Thank God this wasn’t any worse.”

  Jonathan forced himself to think of something besides the burning at the back of his head. Grace, was she hurt and they weren’t telling him? After all, he’d slammed her into the same hard ground that had bruised his knee. He gave a sigh of relief when the ice pack was lifted from his head and flinched when it was returned.

  Staring at the ground, he heard someone walk up and saw the hem of a skirt enter his line of vision. Trying to roll his eyes to see higher wrinkled his forehead, which wrinkled the skin on his head, which made the wound hurt more.

  “Have you ever had a big knot on your head before?” Dr. Elizabeth owned the skirt.

  He started to shake his head and then answered instead. “No.”

  “I’m going to look at it. It includes some probing, and it will hurt.”

  What could he say? No, I’m chicken? Instead he said nothing, just held his head more firmly. She was right; it did hurt but not unbearably. When she finished he let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

  “All right, now let me look at your eyes. If you have a concussion or skull damage, it can show up there.”

  He raised his head to see her smile and stare first into one eye and then the other.

  “Looks good. I would say both you and Grace were protected by your guardian angels today.”

  “I guess.”

  “Anything else hurting?”

  “My back, especially the right shoulder.” He didn’t bother to mention his knee.

  She moved behind him. “No bleeding. Do you mind taking your shirt off this shoulder?”

  He did as she said and flinched again as she palpitated his shoulder.