A Touch of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  “You have an abrasion here, but I don’t think anything is broken. Can you move your shoulder? Good. Now make a fist. Excellent.”

  She stepped around in front of him. “Pastor, why don’t you move what’s left of that ice pack to his shoulder. Good. Now, Mr. Gould, you are welcome to come over to the surgery and lie down for a while if you like. It might help the headache.”

  “Can’t I go back to work on the house?”

  “You won’t be able to wear your hat. And if you get dizzy, you could get hurt worse.”

  How embarrassing.

  “They’re going to be stopping soon, at least those that have to go milk cows, and then we’ll all be back here for supper and the party.”

  A wave of weariness deluged him. All of a sudden the only thing he could think of was lying down. He looked up to see her studying him.

  “Come with me.” She reached out a hand. “We’ll walk slowly.”

  Once in her surgery he collapsed on the bed and was asleep before he had time to thank her.

  When he opened his eyes again, dusk softened the room. He slowly lifted his head from the pillow, where he’d been lying face down, since the back of his head sported the most obvious of his wounds, and winced at the pain in his shoulder. But other than a dull ache, the timpani player inside his head had gone home and taken his instrument with him. Even more slowly he rolled over so he could sit up on the edge of the bed. His boots sat by the wall, so someone had been in to help him. The last he could remember was the walk that took forever from the new house to the doctor’s house, him leaning more on her shoulder than he’d wanted.

  Since the drum was no longer playing, he could hear music floating in on the same breeze that lifted the sheer curtains. The party had begun. Which meant he’d missed chores—a definite mark against him. He glanced around the room to see a note propped against the water pitcher on the washstand and slowly stood to reach it. When he saw the water, he immediately realized he suffered from a raging thirst. After guzzling a glass of water, he unfolded the paper and read, We are all at the party. If you would like supper, Thelma will fix a plate for you. If you would rather just sleep on through the night, that is probably the best. I expect you still have a fierce headache.

  He gingerly felt around the swelling on the back of his head, wincing as he did so. Using his left arm eased the pain in the back of his right shoulder. That timber must have whacked him on both head and shoulder. Gratitude that it didn’t hit him in the neck knocked him back down to sit on the edge of the bed. I could have been killed. Grace … Grace is all right too. He thought back to the accident. He’d just acted instinctively, not pausing for a moment’s thought. All because she couldn’t hear that shout when the rope started to go. The miracle? She’d not been hurt before. She must always be in places that could be dangerous, living on a farm.

  She needs me to take care of her. Where had that thought come from? But wasn’t that what love did, take care of the beloved? My beloved. He wrapped his tongue around the idea and spoke the words softly into the deepening dusk. “Grace, my beloved. I am in love with Grace Knutson.” Something started in his toes and worked its way upward, swelling as it surged. It paused at his heart, gathered more warmth, and swirled around his head before slipping out on another whisper. “Grace, such a perfect name for the most gallant young woman I’ve ever met. I came to Blessing for this purpose, to love Grace and spend my lifetime showing her how much.” Lifetime. That meant marriage. Would Grace be willing to leave Blessing and move to New York? Or could he come back to Blessing?

  As he pulled on his boots, another thought hit him, this one not nearly as pleasurable. He couldn’t say a thing to Grace without first getting her father’s permission to court her. And he couldn’t do that without talking with his own father first. A four-year-long courtship while he attended college was not unheard of. But what would his mother say? Bending over to tie his boots made him so dizzy he nearly fell headfirst onto the floor. His stomach roiled, hot and violent. Closing his eyes, he tried putting his head between his knees, but that was only worse. Slowly, carefully, he eased his foot out of the boot and lowered himself to lie on his side, bringing his feet up to join the rest of him on the bed.

  Maybe Dr. Elizabeth had been right. Staying put seemed the better part of valor. Fainting if he tried to dance would not be very impressive—if he made it back there at all. As he drifted off to sleep, he once again saw Grace looking at Toby Valders. Nausea returned as the question stood in front of him like a large fence—just what was their relationship?

  RAIN RUINED THE FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATION.

  Pouring rain at that. It started early in the morning, crested about noon, and drizzled most of the afternoon. After dinner was served at the church, they called off the ballgame, and when the clouds looked to have taken up residence right over Blessing, everyone gathered back inside. All the men could talk about anyway was the hay crop and would it remain standing or at least not be laid so flat that mowing would be impossible.

  As the women cleaned up the leftovers, they talked about how they missed Penny and hoped all was well with her, about the new man at the general store, who brought out a wide variety of opinions, and about Sophie’s coming wedding.

  Ingeborg tucked a dish towel around the bread and cheese left in her basket. As the other women found their own dishes and pans, she did the same, all the while fighting against the sadness watered by the rain. Penny’s leaving had torn a hole in her heart, as if she’d lost her own daughter. In a way she had. Penny had been part of her life ever since that day so many years ago when the Baards stopped their wagon near the newly finished sod barn and introduced themselves to the Bjorklunds. So much had filled the years since then—Roald dying, her remarrying, their children growing up together. Agnes, the sister of her heart. Good friends like that didn’t come along every day, and then she was gone long before her old age. Death had visited them all, and while she knew Penny was alive and well, her heart still ached for the miles separating them.

  She hadn’t felt like celebrating today, and now no one did. Thunder grumbled off to the west and lightning forked the black clouds.

  “As soon as the storm front passes, I think we’ll head on home.” Haakan looked to her for confirmation.

  She knew by the way he was watching her that he was concerned about her. She forced a smile to go along with the nod. Being at home would be better than here. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty to do, although this rain would be hard on the berries. Good thing she’d picked the ripe ones last night. The sooner she got them canned, the fewer she’d lose.

  The storm passed to the south, and as the rain let up, they headed for their wagons, ignoring the mist blowing under umbrellas and into buggy seats.

  “Good thing we got the roof on that house,” Lars said as he helped Kaaren onto the wagon seat.

  With their buggy and team tied right next to the Knutsons’, Haakan answered, “And the windows in.”

  “What are you going to do with all your free time until chores?” Lars asked, his lips stretched in a slight smile to say he was teasing.

  “I might just take a nap.”

  Ingeborg glanced at her husband in surprise. Her first thought, Is he feeling all right? Haakan rarely took a nap, except on a Sunday afternoon if they didn’t have company.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, climbing in beside her. “I’m fine. A nap on a rainy holiday just sounded like a fine idea.”

  Ingeborg waved in response to the farewells and slid a bit closer to her husband. While she had brought a shawl, still the chill penetrated, along with the moisture, which dripped off her straw hat and trickled down her back. Much as they needed the rain, it sure did ruin a rare holiday.

  “Where did the young people suddenly disappear to?”

  “They’re over at the school. I think they asked Jonathan to play the piano, and they’ll probably push back the desks for some dancing.”

  “But they didn’t in
vite the old folks.” He clucked the horses to pick up their feet a little faster. Water splashed from the spinning wheels.

  “I’m sure we’d be welcome if we wanted to join them.” She tucked her arm through the crook of his. “Do you want to?”

  “Not at all.” He clamped her hand against his side and turned to smile at her. “I’m sure we can find something to do.”

  The shiver that ran up her back had nothing to do with the chill of the air. She rested her head against his shoulder. The strawberries would last another day in the cool of the well house.

  The rain let up in time to bring the cows up for milking. As Haakan stepped out on the back porch, he called for Ingeborg.

  “What is it?” She wiped her hands on her apron as she joined him.

  Haakan pointed toward the gray-clouded east, where a brilliant rainbow arched across the sky, the colors so vibrant they made her catch her breath.

  “Ah, a whole arch. Look at that.” Ingeborg smiled up at her husband. “Thank you for calling me.” Thank you, Lord, for painting us such a gift. The prayer rose without her volition.

  The sound of clopping hooves and laughter made her glance down the lane. The young people were returning just in time for chores, and it sounded like they were still having a good time.

  Andrew was striding across the field alongside Lars and George, with Barney running in front of them. The evening clan was gathering, and she needed to get going on the supper.

  “You won’t believe what happened.” Astrid rushed into the kitchen.

  Ingeborg looked up from measuring flour into the biscuit dough. “What?”

  “Toby walked out when Grace asked him to dance.”

  “Oh, poor Grace.” Ingeborg thought a moment. “What a rude thing to do. That doesn’t sound like Toby at all.” She paused again. “Grace asked him to dance? That doesn’t sound like Grace either.”

  “You know she has a crush on him?” Astrid dipped water from the cool bucket and drank her fill, watching her mother over the rim of the long-handled dipper.

  “I was afraid of that. Her mother will not be pleased.” She knew Grace loved Toby but kept hoping she’d outgrow it. He’d been a friend for so long, and Grace was always loyal. A childish crush, as Astrid said. But the old saying “Still water runs deep” could have been written about Grace.

  Astrid started to say something else, but Jonathan walked in just then, and the conversation ended as Astrid headed up the stairs to change into chores clothes. Ingeborg smiled at Jonathan and turned the bowl of biscuit dough out on the floured board to knead it.

  “Do you need anything from the well house?” he asked.

  “The ham that is hanging on the beam, please, and the crock of cream. I need to churn in the morning.”

  “Be right back.”

  She watched him go out the screen door, keeping it from slamming. Interesting how I was so concerned about his coming, and now I know how much I’m going to miss him when he leaves. I need to write to his mother and tell her what a fine young man she has raised. She patted out the dough and dipped a glass in flour before cutting each shape. Setting them on the cookie sheet, she molded the small leftover bits into a circle to cut again, then patted the last together. The final biscuit never did look as perfect as the others, so after she baked them all, she kept that one off the serving plate and ate it herself.

  Did Kaaren know about Grace’s quandary? Even more concerning, did Lars know? He’d had such a hard time when Sophie left, and now his dependable daughter was going to break his heart if she really did want Toby. While Toby had always been a good worker, his reputation as a troublemaker still clung to him like a starving leech. For a town that heard forgiveness preached so wondrously, many still struggled with it personally. Or even more frightening, perhaps not thinking on it at all. Lord, help us all. Ingeborg wondered how often she prayed that prayer.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mor,” Astrid whispered in her mother’s ear as she kissed her cheek in passing through the kitchen on her way to the barn.

  “I’m not worrying. I never worry.” Ingeborg hoped that was true. While she thought she turned everything over to her heavenly Father, sometimes things had a way of cropping up all over again, in spite of her good intentions.

  Jonathan held the door for Astrid, getting a saucy grin and an over-the-shoulder mange takk for his gallantry as she passed him. His velbekomme made her laughter flutter with the breeze.

  “Good for you.” Ingeborg smiled at his efforts and added tusen takk when he set the ham and crock on the table.

  His forehead wrinkled and he made a face. “Is there something different I should say to that?”

  “No. Velbekomme works for both. How are your language lessons doing?”

  “Bare hyggelig—my pleasure. Hallo allesammen—hello everybody.”

  He tossed those behind him as he headed upstairs to change into work clothes.

  He was diligent in his sign lessons too, she thought, but probably more for Grace’s smiles. Ah, what a combination. He thinks of Grace as she thinks of Toby, but he will be leaving. Still, perhaps he can widen Grace’s world a little.

  Ingeborg took out the big carving knife and sharpened it before slicing thick slabs of ham to fry for supper. Creamed peas would taste good on the biscuits. She paused and headed out the door for the garden. Kneeling beside the potato plants, she dug into the soft soil with her fingers, searching for small new potatoes to add to the cream sauce with the peas.

  Feeling like a victorious hunter with tender-skinned red potatoes in her apron and the potato plants still intact to keep producing, she glanced up to see remnants of the rainbow to the east as the sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds in the west, outlining the tumultuous clouds in gilt. “Uff da,” she muttered as she looked down to see the mud crusted on the front of her long apron. The black Red River valley soil could stick like the hardiest of glue. She’d have to change her apron and set it to soaking before the milkers came in for supper.

  “Grace is in trouble,” Astrid whispered when she’d scrubbed her hands after milking. The men were still finishing up with the chores. “Samuel told his pa about the dancing, and now Trygve is mad at him for blabbing and everyone is mad at Toby for hurting Grace’s feelings. Onkel Lars gave Grace one of his father looks. I’m glad I’m here and not at their house tonight.”

  Ingeborg closed her eyes. Leave it to Samuel. He’d take on the world to protect those he loved and often got in trouble himself because of it. He reminded her of Andrew and his championing of the underdog. Look where it got him that summer still labeled The Big Fight. Shame the younger ones couldn’t seem to learn some lessons from the older.

  “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

  Before turning to her daughter, Ingeborg checked on the biscuits she’d put in the oven. “What can I say other than I’m so sorry this is happening?”

  “Me too. I don’t like it when people are unhappy.” Astrid took the silverware from the drawer and set the table. “Do you mind if I go help Dr. Elizabeth tomorrow?”

  “After washing clothes and picking the last of the peas?”

  “I guess.” Her sigh said what she really thought of the situation.

  “If it is too wet to cut in the morning, I’m going to put Jonathan to work up in the cheese house again. He is such a big help.”

  “He is really interested in making cheese. I told him to ask you all his questions, not me.” Astrid turned at the sound of the men talking at the wash bench. “I imagine he would learn Norwegian a lot faster if we spoke only Norwegian around him.”

  “Between Norwegian and signing, he’ll be multilingual before he goes home.”

  “He already speaks French, and he’s had both Latin and Greek.” Astrid finished putting the biscuits in the basket and set it on the table. She looked over her shoulder. “And between you and me, he likes Grace—a lot.”

  “I was afraid that was what I was sensing.”

  “Why afr
aid?”

  “Because someone is going to have hurt feelings, since she has always championed Toby.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Ingeborg kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. Grace was not one to let go easily. If she really thought she was in love with Toby, one brush-off would hardly deter her. And after all, Toby had become a polite young man and a hard worker, and Ingeborg had caught the glances of other young women who thought him handsome, with his dark curly hair and flashing eyes. If only he could be freed from his past reputation. And his overbearing adoptive mother. Ingeborg glanced up to see Astrid watching her. It was a good thing her daughter could not read her thoughts.

  The opening door cut off Astrid’s questions before she could ask them. Ingeborg sent a simple prayer for help heavenward as she donned a smile for the entering men.

  That night after the house was quiet, Ingeborg sat in her rocker, bathed in the light of the kerosene lamp, and flipped through pages of her Bible, looking for something to comfort her anxious heart. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God. She paused there at a verse so easy to read and yet sometimes so difficult to do. For I shall yet praise him.

  She laid her hands on the Bible and leaned her head against the back of the chair. Lord, am I anxious? Or is uneasy a better word? There is trouble brewing, I’m afraid, and people will be hurt. Yet I know that you are in control. I trust that you have a plan for Grace, as you have said you have a plan for each of us, a plan for good and not for evil. I put my worries and fears for Grace, for Kaaren and Lars, for Toby, and for Jonathan too in your mighty hands. Now please give me the grace to leave them there and not try to fix things myself.

  She sat quietly, listening to the night noises as the house settled into the cooler evening. A breeze fluttered the sheer white curtains at the open window, an owl hooted on its nightly patrol, both it and the bats leaving their haunts in the top rafters of the barn and swooping out to hunt. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. June bugs clattered against the window screen, seeking the light, and a mosquito whined around her head.