A Touch of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  “We’ll discuss this later. Good day, Mrs. Callahan. Mrs. Wooster and I will be in contact with you soon.”

  “Thank you.” She showed them to the door. “Miss Knutson, please have someone call me to let me know when you can arrive.”

  “I will, Mrs. Callahan. Thank you so much.”

  “Congratulations,” Jonathan said rather formally as they went down the walk.

  She studied his face. Was he not happy for her? What was wrong? After all, this was why he brought her to New York, wasn’t it?

  Blessing, North Dakota

  NO WONDER SHE WAS HAVING TROUBLE leaving the threshing crew in God’s hands this year. Haakan had confessed not only to being tired, but he’d used the word exhausted. Was it age creeping up on him or was something wrong? And she’d kept missing Elizabeth to ask her opinion before the men left.

  She glared down at the letter in her hand. She’d tried reading between the lines by lamplight for the last hour, because she’d awak-ened and not been able to go back to sleep. Usually when she woke in the night like this, she prayed for those who came to mind and went soundly back to sleep. But not this time. She stared out the window. Not even the tiniest crack of light in the east.

  She picked up her Bible from the nightstand and flipped to Jesus’ words: I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. Usually they brought all the comfort she needed. Lord, I know you keep your promises, and right now I ask you to heal whatever it is that is making Haakan feel so exhausted. Help him to sleep the deep sleep of healing and awake full of energy. I can’t be there, but you are, and I have to trust you in this. You know my heart. I am having trouble with trust right now. The same feeling she’d had at the slaughter of the cattle was poking at her, trying to take over.

  “I do not live by feelings. I live by faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God.” She repeated the words aloud to re-brand them into her mind and heart. “My heavenly Father has plans for good and not for evil.”

  Will you trust me? floated in on the breeze that stirred the curtains.

  “I will trust you. I will trust you. I do trust you. I am trusting you.” She repeated the phrases as she refolded Haakan’s letter and slid it back into the envelope. “Please bring him home safe.”

  She overslept for the first time since she couldn’t remember when. Astrid had bacon fried and eggs ready to fry next, with bread toasting on the rack over the open back lid.

  “I was about to go wake you. Are you all right?”

  Ingeborg finished tying on her apron. “Ja. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. Then when I did, I guess my body decided to catch up.” The cat chirped as he wound himself around her skirt.

  Astrid pointed to the envelope on the table. “There’s a telegram for you there.”

  Oh no. Ingeborg’s heart fell even with her knees. “Why didn’t you wake me?” She stared at the yellow paper as if it were a snake coiled and ready to strike.

  “Don’t worry, Mor. You’ll like it. Were it about Pa, I would have brought it to you. Mr. Valders delivered it.”

  Ingeborg walked to the table and reached for the envelope. Since when did telegrams have good news?

  DEAR MRS. BJORKLUND STOP PLEASE MEET MY EMISSARY AT WESTBOUND TRAIN TODAY STOP HAS SOMETHING FOR YOU STOP WITH DEEPEST GRATITUDE STOP DAVID GOULD

  Ingeborg read it again and looked up to find Astrid watching her. “What do you think it is?”

  “How would I know?” She flipped the toast onto a plate, slid two fried eggs and bacon next to it, and handed the plate to her mother. “Coffee will be ready in a minute or two.”

  “I was going to pickle beets today.”

  “I’ll dig them right after we eat, and we can at least get them boiling. I have eggs to take to town, so we’ll have to take the buggy.”

  “Meet his emissary? Something he couldn’t just put in a box or crate and send?”

  “Are we going to say grace?”

  “Ja, of course.” Together they repeated the prayer, their voices almost lost in the cavernous stillness of the house. Astrid got up to get the coffeepot and fill their cups.

  “When do you think the crew will be home?”

  “Your pa didn’t say but most likely not for at least two weeks. He said the harvest is good, so that means they won’t be home early.

  Thank you, Lord, for a good harvest.” That would help compensate for the earlier losses. “I keep thinking I should start looking for cows to buy, but I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Andrew said he and Pa would go looking after harvest.”

  “He did? Well, nice to tell me.”

  “Maybe they were hoping to surprise you and I just let the cat out of the bag.”

  “Maybe. I’m thinking not to replace the sheep. We can buy a few fleece to card and spin our own yarn.”

  “We can buy already spun too, remember?”

  “I know, but somehow that seems a waste.”

  Astrid propped her elbows on the table so she could hold her coffee cup to her lips more easily. “Mor, we have to keep up with the times. Would you want to give away your sewing machine, your washing machine?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Ingeborg mopped the last of the egg yolk with her toast and pushed her plate away. “We need to watch those beans that are drying on the vines too. Might be time to pick them before they drop their seeds.”

  “You do that while I dig the beets. The beans can finish drying on the front porch.” Astrid stacked the plates together and carried them over to put in the dishpan on the stove.

  “Maybe I should go over and help Kaaren. Now with school starting, she and Ilse will be doing it all.” She thought a moment. “And I think we’ll take some of the beet greens in to Elizabeth. Inga really likes them.”

  “Inga really likes anything her grandmother likes.”

  Several hours later, with the cooked beets cooling, washed beet greens in a basket, and a crate of eggs for the store, they drove the horse and buggy down the lane. Usually they had at least one of the men home, but this year with no cows to milk and other livestock to take care of, even Trygve and Samuel had gone along. They’d be coming back soon to start school, but it saved hiring another man they could not afford. While school had already started, frequently the older boys began late due to harvest.

  “I forgot to check the snare line.” Astrid stopped the horse and turned around at the junction of lane and road. She had put it out the night before, since they were so low on meat. She stopped by the barn, climbed down and ran through the open pole gate to head for the riverbank, where Samuel usually ran a snare.

  Ingeborg thought of going up to the house and slipping the skins off the boiled beets but instead leaned against the back of the seat, studying the empty barn. What if they didn’t buy any cows until next year? But they had far more than enough hay for the horses. Was the return on the cheese business necessary? What if they let it go? The thought choked her like hands around her throat. The December shipments would clean out the cheese house.

  “Dear Lord, what are we to do?”

  One good thing about keeping excessively busy, one didn’t have much time to ponder the future. As if her worrying would make one iota of difference.

  Astrid came back shaking her head.

  They wouldn’t be having rabbit tonight.

  When they heard the far-off wail of the train whistle, Astrid hupped the horse into a trot. But at Ingeborg’s reminder of the eggs, she slowed him to a fast walk. They arrived at the station just as the train squealed to a stop. While Astrid tied the horse at the hitching post, Ingeborg walked to the platform.

  When a man came down the stairs looking around, the only one disembarking, she walked over to him.

  “Are you Mrs. Bjorklund?” He touched the brim of his felt hat.

  “Ja, I am.”

  “I am Mr. Harry Burke, and it is my pleasure to bring you something Mr. Gould hopes you will receive without complaint.”

  “Without complaint?�
� Whatever does that mean?

  “Come with me.”

  Astrid joined them, and they moved down the track to where a cattle ramp was being pushed up to the train car. Ingeborg and Astrid exchanged questioning looks until Mr. Burke appeared at the top of the ramp with a black and white Holstein cow on a tether and led her down. He handed the rope to Astrid.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “A milk cow.” Ingeborg couldn’t get her mouth to shut.

  Burke reappeared, this time with a gold and cream Guernsey. He handed Astrid another rope and walked back up the ramp.

  Ingeborg took the rope and stroked the Guernsey’s soft neck. Between the tears, she murmured, “Aren’t you beautiful?”

  This time Mr. Burke appeared with a young bull on a lead. “Both the cows are already bred, and this young fellow should be up to the job when he is needed. The Holstein is due in December and the Guernsey in February, so you should have milk clear through. Mr. Gould said to contact him if you decide to buy more replacement stock. He has a ready seller. Do you have any questions?”

  Ingeborg sniffed and mopped her eyes with her free hand.

  The station agent came out of the office, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll be. Fine looking stock you got there. Wait until Haakan hears about this. You going to tie those three behind your buggy, or do you need some help getting ’em home?”

  “I milked them this morning and poured the milk into a can. You want to take that too?”

  Ingeborg turned to Astrid. “We’ll have cream again and butter.” She huffed a breath. “Thank you, Mr. Burke. You can tell Mr. Gould that his payment will come in December.”

  “That means a wheel of cheese,” Astrid said to the man, who was about to argue.

  “If you don’t need me, I’m to go to the boardinghouse for a good dinner and catch the afternoon train heading east. Thank you, Mrs. Bjorklund, and the best to you.”

  Ingeborg watched him stride off. Uff da, what a surprise.

  The station agent took the young bull’s lead. “I’ll tie up this one.”

  After leaving off the eggs at the grocery store, they drove by Elizabeth’s with the basket of greens, and the three bovines put down their heads to graze at the grass in front of the fence.

  Thorliff charged out the door. “What in the world?”

  “A thank-you present from the Goulds.” Astrid headed inside with the basket of greens. “We were going to stay but not now.”

  Thorliff looked the stock over, shaking his head and stroking his chin between thumb and forefinger, a trait he had picked up from Haakan. “Leave it to Mr. Gould.”

  Ingeborg pointed to the ten-gallon milk can. “From this morning’s milking. Go get a container and I’ll leave some with you.”

  “Gamma!” Inga shrieked from Astrid’s arms on the front step.

  “Coming.” She turned to Thorliff. “You stay with the cows.”

  “We sure know who comes first around here.”

  “Never a doubt.”

  “Gamma, cows.”

  She kissed the rosy little cheek. “Yes, and milk for Inga and butter and cream and …” She took the child from Astrid and danced them around the yard in a circle. Astrid disappeared into the house again. “And pudding and cream pie and …”

  “Gamma, pet cows.”

  “Not this time but soon.”

  Astrid returned from the house with Elizabeth in tow and a pot to pour the milk into.

  “If only we had ice, we could make ice cream,” Ingeborg said.

  “We have ice,” Elizabeth said. “I bought a block from the ice wagon yesterday.”

  “Good. Come for supper and come early enough to bring ice, and we will make ice cream. I’ll let Kaaren and Ellie know.”

  Within a few minutes they were waving good-bye and slowly plodding home. Cows did not move fast.

  After they let the animals loose in the corral, they leaned on the pole gate and watched the three drink from the tank and then walk around the corral, immediately pulling grass from between the lower rails.

  “Should we let them in the pasture or put them in the barn to feed on hay?”

  “What a quandary!” Ingeborg grinned at her daughter. “Maybe we should tether them up by the house and knock down some of that grass.”

  “Ingeborg!”

  They heard Ellie call and saw her striding across the field with Carl on her hip.

  “Come celebrate. We have milk and cows for more.”

  Barney outran them and ducked under the fence rail to go sniff his new charges. The bull backed off and shook his head while the cows ignored him and continued wrapping their long tongues around mouthfuls of grass and yanking it in.

  “Now, if that isn’t a lesson in life. The bull gets all huffed up, and the cows keep on doing what needs to be done.”

  “Mor!” Ellie and Astrid said at the same time, shock turning mouths and eyes into big Os.

  That night Ingeborg wrote Mr. Gould a thank-you letter and told him how nice Mr. Burke had been, even to saving the milk in the can for that day.

  The cows have settled in nicely, but then cows are easy to please—good pasture, a can of grain, and getting milked two times a day. Our cattle dog, Barney, was teaching them the rules here, and they were perfectly amenable to that. The girls named the bull Buster, and he is content in his pasture also. Kaaren said to thank you too, as now she no longer has to worry about milk for the schoolchildren.

  The men are not back from threshing yet, but the boys will be home next week to start school.

  We all miss Grace, and Jonathan created his own place in our hearts, so we miss him too. What a good worker that young man is. Again, our thanks, and we pray God’s blessings on all that you do. You have been such a good friend to us all these years, and we thank you for that too.

  With all gratitude,

  Your friend,

  Ingeborg Bjorklund

  She knew Mr. Gould would not accept payment, even when they could afford it, since he had stipulated the stock as a gift. So how to repay him as a gift? Send a supply of cheese on a regular basis? Maybe Grace could let her know if, in fact, cheese was a regular part of the Gould family diet.

  She addressed and sealed the envelope and propped it against the glass sugar and creamer Haakan had given her. Symbols of two important men in her life. Her sons were the symbols of their father Roald. She had kept the bit of the mule’s bridle that they found and had given Roald’s pocketknife to Thorliff. With no grave to wear a headstone, it was as though Roald Bjorklund had just disappeared from the face of the earth in that winter blizzard. Except in her memories.

  Thorliff remembered some things about his real father and Kaaren of course remembered her first husband’s brother too, but with Roald’s brother Carl and his mother, Bridget, gone to heaven, his sister Augusta in South Dakota, and brother Hjelmer in Bismarck, there was no one else here who had known him well.

  He had been a good man, stern and without much laughter. Duty came first, along with the drive for land.

  She blew out the lamp, musing her way to bed, a bed that seemed empty without Haakan. “Come home soon,” she whispered into the night air as she looked at the stars. “Father God, watch over him.” A chill shivered up her spine, and she crawled under the sheet. “Please bring him home safe.”

  New York City

  THE HOUSE SEEMED EMPTY WITHOUT HER.

  “I miss Grace.” Mary Anne leaned against Jonathan’s knee as he sat in a chair out on the flagstone terrace, reading.

  “Me too.”

  “When you go to Princeton, I’m going to be all alone.”

  “How can you say that? David and Daniel are still here.”

  She gave him a look that made him nod.

  True, they didn’t have a whole lot to do with their little sister. In fact, even when they were home, the rest of the family seldom saw them. They went to a different school than Mary Anne did, and David was hoping to move to a prep school if his father and mo
ther agreed on it. So far, that wasn’t happening.

  “Do you have to leave on Sunday?”

  “Yes. I should have already left.”

  “But you don’t want to go to school there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I heard you and Father talking.”

  “Eavesdropping?”

  She had the grace to look down, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “How else would I know things? Nobody ever tells me anything.”

  “That’s because you are not supposed to be out of the nursery yet.”

  If looks could scorch, he’d still be smoking. He grinned at her and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go play badminton.”

  “You have to hold the racket in your left hand.”

  “All right. I suppose you want me to play blindfolded too?”

  “Would you?”

  “No.”

  That evening Jonathan’s father called him into the study. “I think it is time we picked up our conversation again.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jonathan took the chair his father indicated. Why did he feel like the character in Edgar Allen Poe’s story, strapped down on the table with the pendulum swinging back and forth, coming closer with each swing?

  “I’ve been giving our discussion a great deal of thought.”

  “As have I.”

  “Good.” He paused. “And you’ve decided you can’t wait to get to Princeton?”

  His father smiled slightly, so Jonathan knew he was teasing. Perhaps there was hope after all. “No, but I have a proposition to offer.” Where had those words come from? He’d never put his ideas into that form before.

  His father templed his fingers and tapped his chin. “Go ahead.”

  “I will go to Princeton and give it my best effort—for one year.” His father nodded. “And if at the end of that year, I still have a strong pull to learn about farming, I will transfer to an agricultural college.”

  His father’s slow nod and thoughtful stare sent hope shooting from heart to brain.

  “I trust you will keep your word on doing your best?”

  “I always keep my word. You taught me there is no other way to succeed.”

  “Have you looked into other colleges?”