A Touch of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  IF HE COULD HOLD GRACE in his arms forever, it would not be long enough.

  “My turn.” The male voice interrupted Jonathan’s reverie, as did the tap on his shoulder.

  Jonathan paused in the dance, smiled at Grace, bowed, and handed her off to one of the Geddick sons. He didn’t smile at the interloper. At least Toby hadn’t shown his face. If that man hurt Grace’s feelings again, Jonathan wasn’t sure what he would do, but remaining silent wasn’t one of the options. He moved out of the way of the dancers and turned to search the circling couples for Grace. Cutting back in immediately, which he’d like to do, was not proper, nor polite.

  “So how are you enjoying the festivities?”

  He turned to smile at Thorliff standing beside him.

  I’d be enjoying it more if I were still dancing with Grace. But he kept his thought to himself. “People here know how to celebrate. Looks like the entire town turned out.”

  “Most likely. How is your summer going?”

  “Very well. Far better than I thought it would in the beginning.”

  “I wondered if you were as enthusiastic about coming here as your father was for you to come.”

  Jonathan smiled again and raised one eyebrow, which made Thorliff clap him on the shoulder.

  “I hear you are a great help in the cheese house especially, but everyone has been complimentary.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I never had any idea of all the intricacies of farming or how hard farmers worked. Reading about it in a book doesn’t begin to detail a day that starts before sunrise and doesn’t end until you collapse in a bed so tired you are sure you won’t be able to get up in the morning and go again.”

  “What have you liked about it?”

  “Everything.”

  Thorliff turned to stare into Jonathan’s eyes. “Really?”

  “Really. The thought of returning to the life I used to lead in New York no longer appeals to me at all.”

  “Does your father know this yet?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “I’ve been very honest with my parents about the things I’ve learned and the experiences I’ve had, but I know that I am committed to go to college whether I want to at this point or not.” He turned as the dancers clapped at the end of the song, automatically searching out Grace.

  “Are you thinking of staying?” Thorliff lowered his voice, surprise having raised it.

  “I wish I could. I wish I’d thought fast enough to buy Penny’s store. But I just wasn’t thinking quick enough. Not that I’d planned on being a storekeeper, but—”

  “Let me get this straight. You want to stay in Blessing?”

  “Or come back here.”

  “Why?”

  Jonathan raised his hands. “See these callouses? The hardest thing my hands ever had to do was grip a tennis racket, turn book pages, or write an essay. That first day, when Astrid taught me to milk a cow and I learned to dig in the garden, I thought my hands and arms were killing me. At home I would have told a gardener to do the digging had I wanted a hole in the ground, not that I ever wanted such a thing. But here you live on the food produced in that garden and the animals I’ve learned about taking care of …” He paused a moment. “Somehow this seems far more important in the grand design of life.”

  “But you haven’t gone through haying or harvest yet. That might change your mind.”

  “I don’t know, but I doubt it. Life has purpose here, and I like that.”

  “Is it the farming or—” Thorliff paused and nodded toward Grace and Astrid, who were teasing Trygve—“the people?”

  Jonathan followed Thorliff ’s glance. At least Grace was smiling now. “Pardon me, I’m going to ask her to dance again and turn the other way if someone tries to cut in.” He left Thorliff chuckling and stopped beside the girls.

  “Go dance with him and leave me alone.” Trygve nudged his sister with his elbow.

  “You can hand it out, but you can’t take it.” Astrid laughed at Trygve. “Just because she’s a new girl in town.”

  “Well, Maggie’s not really new. She and her family came last fall,” Trygve said after a moment’s thought.

  “See? What did I tell you?” Astrid grinned at Grace. “He’s been keeping track. Go over and ask Maggie to dance. Don’t be so bashful.”

  Jonathan smiled at Grace. “If you would come dance with me, you wouldn’t have to endure your brother’s miseries.”

  Grace nodded and then said to her brother, “Go ask her.” She let Jonathan take her hand and lead her back to where the dancers were fanning themselves and waiting for the next dance. “Thank you.”

  “For saving you?”

  “No, for saving Trygve. He is such fun to tease. Even his ears get red.”

  The music started and they swung into a schottische, following the same pattern as the other dancers. Cottonwood trees lent their dappled shade, encouraging the party with whispers stoked by the breeze. Jonathan wished he could just spend the time watching Grace, but making sure no one jostled her and that they didn’t bump into another revolving couple took too much concentration. At the final flourish they followed the rest to the table where ice chunks still floated in a tub of lemonade.

  Mrs. Valders handed Jonathan a cup, which he handed to Grace. At her raised eyebrow look, he smiled and said, “Mange takk.” Her nod failed to hide pursed lips. Obviously he’d done something to gain her disapproval, perhaps the last time he picked up the mail.

  He led Grace over to a vacant bench under the trees. When they’d sat down, he looked upward and then tried to sign, “Were these here when they built the school and church?”

  She shook her head. “Mor and Tante Ingeborg insisted that we plant trees. You’ll find one by every house. Mor says when they came here the grass was taller than a man on horseback in some places. When Andrew was just a little guy, he got lost in the grass and Wolf saved him.”

  “Wolf?”

  “Metiz became Ingeborg’s friend. She lived near here—an old woman who was Sioux and French Canadian. They called people with that background Metiz, but she kept the name they mistakenly gave her. She had saved the life of a young wolf from a trap, and he stayed nearby. Thorliff says we all became part of Wolf ’s pack.”

  “A pet wolf?”

  “He was never a pet, but at least one time, he drove a wild wolf pack away from the sheep. We knew his footprints, because one front foot was deformed.”

  “I think life in New York back in those days must have been boring compared to life on the prairie.”

  “It probably depends on how much money you have.”

  “True. My great grandfather started out with nothing, like many of the immigrants, but he eventually amassed a considerable fortune. My grandfather and my father keep working to grow it larger.”

  “What will be your position in the business when you graduate from college?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. As firstborn, my older half brother Thomas is, of course, the most important. He was graduated from Harvard and works in the family business already. He has the kind of brain that thinks in numbers, and he has always planned to follow in Father’s footsteps.”

  “And you?”

  Before he could answer, Samuel came up to them. “Jonathan, we’re starting a baseball game. Come on.”

  “You better go play.”

  I’d rather stay with you. We never get time to talk like this.

  “Come on,” Samuel insisted.

  Jonathan unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled back the sleeves. He untied his tie and draped it over Grace’s extended hand. “I think I should have worn other clothes.”

  “You look very nice.”

  “Thank you. So do you.” He blew out his cheeks. “I like talking with you.” Dancing with you, watching you, dreaming about you. “Coming.” He pushed a lock of hair off his forehead—the pomade didn’t hold up well when dancing in hot weather—and trotted toward the field, where a diamond was laid out.

&nb
sp; “You’re on my team,” Andrew called with a wave. “We’re up first.”

  Jonathan nodded and joined the line of men, glancing back to see Grace joining her sister and mother with the other women. Some of the younger girls were making their way to cheer their favorite team. He wished he’d invited Grace, or rather dragged Grace along with him to cheer.

  That night after chores were finished, Jonathan took out pen and paper to write an overdue letter to his family. His conversation with Thorliff had stayed on his mind all through the milking. What was it he really wanted to do? He knew what he didn’t want to do—return to New York City and go to college. But did he want to own a farm like Andrew and the other Bjorklunds did? Or did he want to have another kind of business out here? If so, what would it be? Would his father be open to new ideas? That was the most important question of all.

  Dear Father and Mother,

  That part was easy, but what to say next?

  Today was the big day for Sophie and Garth. The wedding went very well. The celebration afterwards involved everyone in town and the surrounding countryside, and a good time was had by all. The red team beat the black team in baseball. I was the pitcher, or at least I tried to pitch. My arm will be sore tomorrow, I am sure.

  We will begin haying tomorrow. We should have had it cut by now, Haakan says, but a rainstorm flattened a lot of the fields and we had to wait for the grass to dry out. The morning after the rain much of the field was standing tall again. I was exceedingly amazed.

  Would you please see if you can find some information about the deaf school somewhere in that vacinity? I’ve been thinking that Grace might like to know more about that school, as she helps her mother teach, and they are hoping to increase the number of students.

  I’ve been working a lot in the cheese house. I had no idea how much cheese such a small herd could produce. I usually drive the wagon around to pick up the full cream cans and leave empty ones at various farms that provide milk for making the cheese. Mrs. Bjorklund mentioned the other day that she is looking for someone to help manage the business. I see where the business could be expanded with additional capital if they had access to more milk and cream. That, of course, means more dairy herds, and I now understand the amount of work involved in dairying. Most of the farmers around here have ten head or less.

  I hope you are all having a good summer. I’m sure the family is at the shore by now. My time here is going by fast. I’m grateful I will be able to see at least part of the wheat harvest.

  Your affectionate son,

  Jonathan

  He stared at the sheet of paper. Had he said too much or too little? His father was astute at reading between the lines. While the ink dried, he addressed the envelope. He would take it to the post office on his milk route. If Haakan and Lars began cutting as soon as the dew was off the ground, they said they’d be raking and turning hay in two or three days. He and Andrew would be driving teams for that. One more skill he’d not only never done before but had never heard of before coming west.

  I see Grace in a few minutes. The thought was always a good one to wake up to. But neither Grace nor Astrid showed up at the barn.

  Haakan handed him his stool. “The girls are up at the house. Ingeborg had an emergency call last night, so Astrid and Grace are fixing breakfast.”

  “I hope everything is all right.”

  “Not sure. It may be a problem from Dr. Elizabeth losing her baby.

  Jonathan could feel his ears redden. While the forthrightness of these farmers was something he admired, the mention of such private matters still caught him by surprise. “I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Why don’t you take the Holstein that Astrid usually milks and the Jersey Grace milks that is nearly dry. This way we all take on extra.”

  “I will.” A month ago the thought of two extra cows would have set his muscles to screaming, but now that he milked five every morning and night, two more didn’t seem such a challenge. He set his bucket and stool down at his first cow and, planting his forehead in her flank, set to milking. Poor Dr. Elizabeth. She took such good care of everyone else; it seemed unfair that she should have problems like these. He knew his mother had lost a baby between him and his younger sister. His older brother and sister Lillian’s mother had died giving birth, and the baby along with her. Life was hard for women. That was for sure.

  The ping of the milk in the pail deepened to the thrum of a bucket filling. Someone was whistling, most likely Samuel. Once in a while someone said something to the cow he was milking, but as usual, peace filled the milk barn. The cows chewed their grain; splats of manure filled the air with an odor that was no longer so offensive to him. The cow shifted her back feet. “Easy, boss.” His voice assumed the same cadence of the others. How would he ever explain the joy he found in milking cows, in driving a team, in pitching hay, in digging in the garden? Eating vegetables fresh from the garden, eggs right from the henhouse, fish right out of the river? He’d heard tales of what butchering was like, and while he knew he would be gone, he was sorry he would miss the experience.

  How would he explain all this? Did he really want to farm, or was he still in some kind of euphoria because it was a different life? He’d never worked so hard, learned so much, or eaten so much, for that matter. His mother had warned him that he would miss the ease of their wealthy home and life, but he hadn’t. Was there any school he could attend that taught about farming? What would his father say to that? And he thought of Thorliff’s comment too. Was it the life here, or was it Grace that drew him? Would he still want to be here if there were no Grace?

  Dear Mrs. Bjorklund,

  Thank you for your letter regarding Jonathan. I so appreciate your letting me know how he is, as he seldom writes and the letters are brief. I am surprised that he has fit in so well, as he has always looked forward to summer and our months at the shore. North Dakota is a long way from the sea.

  We are all well here. Thank you for asking. Mr. Gould insists on staying in that hot city and coming out here only on the weekends. I try to convince him that he has others who can do some of the work for him, but both he and Thomas, his eldest son, are committed to taking the company into the new century with force and success.

  The girls, the twins, and I love the beach and the life here. There are parties almost every night, and we always have a houseful of young people and other guests.

  Since Lillian will be leaving for Europe soon for an entire year with her aunt, we are also preparing for that. Mr. Gould said he heard that Blessing would be getting telephone service soon. I find that strange instrument such a time saver. That, along with electricity, will change our country and our lives dramatically.

  Again, thank you for writing and for hosting Jonathan for the summer.

  Sincerely yours,

  Mrs. David J. Gould

  Ingeborg read parts of the letter again. Months at the shore, parties nightly. If Jonathan missed his life back there, she had seen no sign of it. Or else he was an exceptionally good actor. The few times he talked about leaving, she was sure he was not looking forward to going at all, that he would rather stay in Blessing.

  “Mor, I’m going in to help Elizabeth now.” Astrid stuck her head around the doorway. “Is there anything you need from the store?”

  “Yes, I have a partial list.”

  “Garrisons’ Groceries or the general store?”

  “Both.”

  Astrid came into the parlor, where Ingeborg had been working on the books for the cheese house. “I sure wish Penny was still here. That Mr. Jeffers—”

  Ingeborg looked up from adding to her list. “Mr. Jeffers what?”

  “I don’t know. Do you like him?”

  Ingeborg thought a moment. “I don’t like or dislike him. I hardly know him. Why don’t you invite him out for supper—see if he’s busy tonight. Here, let me write him an invitation. We need to be hospitable. I’m sure he’s been slighted by about everyone, since he just isn’t the same as
Penny. Poor man.”

  “Shame he doesn’t have a wife and family. Then he would fit in better.”

  “True.” Ingeborg looked up. “Can you think of anything else we need?” She read off the list she had.

  “We’re almost out of salt.”

  “Thank you.” She tapped her pencil on the paper. “Why don’t you invite Thorliff and Elizabeth too? The more the merrier.”

  “Tante Elizabeth isn’t very merry right now.”

  “I know. The visit might do her good.” She handed the paper to Astrid. “Get some peppermint sticks too. Inga loves chocolate pudding with mashed candy on top.”

  “If I can, I’ll bring Inga back with me in the buggy. Jonathan isn’t back with the wagon yet.”

  The thought of her granddaughter coming with Astrid made Ingeborg smile both inside and out. “I better make some cookies. Would you please bring in some butter and the buttermilk? I feel a baking spree coming on.”

  “Good thing the men are eating at Tante Kaaren’s.”

  “I know.”

  Astrid headed out the door to harness the horse and popped back in. “Mor, there’s a man coming up the lane with two cows. I’m sure he hopes you’ll buy them.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” Ingeborg closed her account books and slid them into the vertical slots in the desk. She cleared the papers into one drawer and the pencils into another. If Inga was coming, things needed to be put away from her inquisitive fingers. She glanced out the window to see that the man was in the yard and the two cows were already grazing on the short grass near the well house. Heading out the door, she grabbed her sunbonnet as she went.

  The man looked about as tired as the cattle he drove. “Howdy, missus. I heard tell you might be in the market for another milk cow. The heifer is carryin’ too, by a real beefy bull. Cow’s been a good milker.”

  “Looks like you’ve been on the road some time.” While they talked, she looked the cow over for any injuries. “How long since she calved?”

  “Three, four months. She’s bred back too.”

  “Why are you selling?”

  “This land just takes too much. My wife and daughter are gone. I can’t stay here any longer. I’d give ’em to you if’n I didn’t need some cash so bad. Folks around here say you’re always on the lookout for more cows.”