A Touch of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  “No, sir. But I will send for information. I thought perhaps you might do the same.”

  “Your mother is very much against this plan, and I understand her dismay. You are her favored son, and she has high hopes of a good marriage for you and great success in both society and the business world.”

  “I thought that’s what I was looking forward to also, but you sent me to North Dakota, and this is what happened.”

  “She fears that Miss Knutson is the reason you want to take up farming.”

  “Father, I love Grace, and I want to marry her. As I have not yet spoken to her about this, she has no idea. But that is not why I want to farm. I want to do something that matters.”

  “You think what I do does not matter?” His eyebrows rose to arches.

  “No, but what Mother sees for me in society does not make any difference to those around unless I commit some misconduct and set the entire gentility into a dithering of gossip.”

  “You have a poor view of your peers.”

  “I have lived with my peers, and I know their games well. How you manage not to succumb into all that amazes me.”

  “That is one of the values of wealth, both earned and inherited. I am free to follow my own interests. I am fascinated by railroads and industry. Money equals power, and power used correctly and wisely can make a big difference in this country and society.”

  “You have a son who wants to follow in your footsteps. In Europe, the second son goes into the priesthood or the military.”

  “Touché.” His father sat forward. “I will agree to your program. I want monthly reports and high scholastic achievement. You will be asked to join a fraternity and get involved in sports. Whether you want to do either is up to you, but if your grades slide, then our agreement is moot and we will have another discussion. In the meantime, I understand your infatuation with Miss Knutson, but you are both too young to think of marriage, so please do not inform her of your feelings.”

  The word infatuation stung like a hornet, but Jonathan clamped his teeth on that and heaved a sigh of relief. He had mountains to climb, but at least they were his mountains. “May I continue to write to her as a friend?”

  His father nodded.

  “Thank you, Father. I will do my best.”

  “And I expect no less. I have a feeling you really don’t know what best you are capable of yet. Most young people don’t at your age.” Mr. Gould stood and shook hands with his son. “I will inform your mother—after you leave.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He felt lighter already. Even one day spent in the house when his mother was in a disapproving state was more than he wanted to endure.

  When he refused to have a going-away party, his mother stared at him. “But don’t you want to say good-bye and good luck to your friends?”

  She doesn’t realize how many invitations I’ve turned down in the last few days. He smiled at her and tried to resume his old happy-go-lucky attitude, but he could see she didn’t understand. “That’s all right, Mother. I’ve said good-bye to the ones that matter the most.” Grace and Mary Anne. The others had slipped away, since he chose not to go out to the shore for the last round of before fall celebrations. Out of sight, out of mind seemed an apt phrase as far as he observed. Had he gone along and resumed all his old activities, they would have welcomed him with open arms, but since he didn’t … Besides, he’d been busy searching for agricultural colleges to attend after his year at Princeton.

  He allowed his mother to oversee the packing of his trunks and making sure he had all she was sure he was going to need, including enough formal wear to warrant an extra trunk. Did she think there were balls every night at Princeton? It was not like Harvard, where Thomas had gone, and even there, that wasn’t the case. Just hopeful thinking on his mother’s part, he guessed.

  Once on the train to Princeton, he took out his leather writing case, a gift from his father, and started another page for his letter to Grace. He’d already told her about the agreement between himself and his father. At least most of it.

  I’ll have to mail this soon or they will charge extra postage. I am on my way south and relieved to have left all the folderol behind me. I wanted to come see you one more time before I left, but there was no time. I spent one day with my father at his office, and it showed me even more clearly that is not where I am meant to be. How I would have loved to see Mrs. Bjorklund’s face when the cows and young bull arrived on the train. Mr. Burke said she was raining tears and Astrid’s eyes were bright as well.

  What have you heard from Blessing? How is your school going? Do you have a tremendous amount to learn? I am full of questions and cannot wait to read a letter written by you. I feel like I’ve known you for years instead of months.

  He closed his eyes and sighed. How he would love to tell her how important she was to him, but he had given his word.

  I know building close friendships takes time, so ours will be a long-distance one until I see you in New York again—at Christmastide.

  Your friend,

  Jonathan D. Gould

  Grace picked up her pen and dabbed it in the ink. She wasn’t sure when Jonathan was going to leave for college but hoped her letter reached him before he did.

  Dear Jonathan,

  Since before New York, I had never been five miles out of Blessing. Every day here is a new adventure. The students have not yet arrived, so the teachers and assistants are in classes training to teach. Being with others who communicate only with sign, I am afraid I might forget how to speak, but my signing is improving, and I am learning new things. There are some signs now for whole words, which makes communication easier and flows more quickly.

  I hope this finds you before you leave for Princeton, but I am sure Mary Anne will make sure there is the proper address on it if not. I cannot thank you enough for encouraging me to come. I will have so much more to use in our Blessing school from my time here. I promised to write to Mary Anne too. Your little sister is a very special young lady, no matter how hard she tries not to be.

  Your friend,

  Grace Knutson

  Dear Mother,

  I know you will be happy that I have pledged with the Chi Phi Fraternity, as you hoped. I almost decided to remain independent, but as both you and Father have said, I will make lifelong friends and contacts here.

  I have a full schedule and believe I will go out for the rowing team. That is one of the reasons I pledged with this house. They offer a quality training program. I didn’t get a lot of choices in studies. Freshmen rarely do.

  I hope all is well at home. Tell Mary Anne I will write to her soon.

  Your loving son,

  Jonathan D. Gould

  Grace read her first letter from Jonathan. When she saw the masculine handwriting, she thought immediately of Toby but then reined herself in. Toby would not be writing to her. Toby had no idea where she was even if he did want to write to her. Besides, she reminded herself, Toby said he was in love with someone else. Why did her mind keep going back to him? He just popped back up at the oddest times.

  Jonathan was at college, and though Princeton didn’t look that far away on the map, there would be no visits. He’d signed his letter Your friend. Somehow she’d had the idea that he would like to be more than just friends, but maybe he had changed his mind. She sure hadn’t given him any encouragement, especially when she realized how out of place she was in his world. Yet being with him brought joy, excitement, and laughter.

  Put thoughts like that away, she told herself. His mother does not like you at all. She had made that very clear. Talk about being icy polite. She had that down to a fine art. She wanted a wealthy and prestigious match for her son, not a farm girl from North Dakota who couldn’t hear and talked funny.

  She folded her letter and put it in the drawer with the ones from home. After bundling her hair in a snood, she made her way downstairs to the dining room. Supper was ready for serving, and she was head of the table tonight. That meant she had
to initiate conversation, which would have to be minimal because it was hard to eat and sign at the same time.

  If only she weren’t so homesick that she sometimes cried herself to sleep at night, it would be almost perfect. At least she had a room of her own—not that a roommate would hear her crying. She hadn’t heard from Sophie, even though Grace had apologized for blowing up at her sister before leaving and again in a letter. She hadn’t heard from Astrid either, who should have had more free time. Only one letter from her mother, not that there had been time to get much mail, but still she thought every hour of getting on a train heading west. She had been just getting used to things at the Gould house when she suddenly had to move to the school. The relief at leaving Mrs. Gould’s politeness had mixed with an onset of the fear of going into a totally new environment. She’d done it, pasting a smile on her face the entire time. But. That was always the word. Did she dare tell Jonathan how she really felt? Did she dare tell anyone how she really felt? Especially after the Goulds had been so good to her, showing her around, giving her a new wardrobe, helping her find the school. And there was Mrs. Wooster. She really needed to write a letter to her too.

  Blessing, North Dakota

  THEY’RE HOME. THE MEN ARE HOME. Ingeborg whipped her apron over her head and ran out the door and down the back steps, waving her apron all the time. Wait until Haakan saw the surprise. She wanted to see his face. Oh, she wanted to see all of the dear him.

  The steam engine leading the parade chugged its ponderous way to the bottom of the lane, where Haakan swung down from the cab and, waving to Lars, strode up the half overgrown road. He waved his hat to Ingeborg and then caught a ride in Andrew’s wagon as it turned in.

  The wagon had high sides, not the usual grain wagon. Ingeborg met them at the barn and threw herself into Haakan’s arms, hugging him so tight neither one of them could breathe well.

  “This is the last year. I don’t want you going away like this any-more. I don’t.” She wiped her eyes on his shoulder and patted his back. “You’ve lost weight.”

  “Leave it to my Inge, worrying about me already.”

  “Already? You think I haven’t stopped praying for you the whole time you were gone?” She placed her palms on either side of his face and peered into his eyes. “Are you all right? I’ve had this terrible feeling.”

  “Just tired. Andrew, show your mor what we bought.”

  Ingeborg looked between the slats of the wagon to see three young hogs. “Aren’t they handsome.” She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “You must come see our surprise.” She took both their hands and dragged them around to the corral. “Meet Buster. Belle and Bonnie are waiting outside the back door to be milked.”

  Haakan and Andrew stared at the bull, who gazed placidly back at them while chewing his cud. “Where? How?”

  “Come on!” She threw open the barn door to see the two cows waiting outside the barred back doorway. “They already know when milking time is. I was just about to come out.”

  “A Holstein and a Guernsey? Where did you get them?” Andrew asked.

  “At the train.”

  Haakan stared at his wife. “At the train? In Blessing?”

  “Ja. Mr. Gould sent them. A thank-you gift.”

  “This isn’t just a gift. This is life again. We’ll have milk and cream again. Hallelujah!”

  “I’ve sent milk around to those with children. All of Blessing is blessing Mr. Gould. We churned butter today, twice. Both of the cows are bred, but Mr. Gould knew we’d need a bull, so he sent Buster too. When he gets a bit older.”

  “And to think I was wondering what we were going to feed those hogs.”

  “Let me go on home and see Ellie and Carl, then I’ll come back and milk.” Andrew gave his mother an arm-around-the-shoulders hug. “That’s some surprise.”

  “You stay with your family. I can milk.”

  “Your mother and I can milk.”

  “Are we having a fight over who gets to milk the cows?” Andrew said with a laugh, heading for the wagon. “I’ll put the pigs in my barn. See you tomorrow.”

  “You let our ladies in and I’ll go get the buckets.”

  Haakan gave her a pat on the back of her skirt and headed to unbar the door, talking to the two cows, introducing himself.

  “The Guernsey is Belle. She’s the one wearing the bell.” Ingeborg paused at the door. “Kind of a giveaway.”

  “Okay.”

  Okay? Haakan had picked up a new word. She knew what it meant and had heard it used before, but not by her husband. They’re home! They’re home! Thank you, Lord, thank you. She half danced her way to the well house. They had cows and hogs and, most important, each other. Thank you, God. They are home!

  They caught up some on the news while they milked, the song of the milk in the bucket so welcome, as was the sound of cows munching their grain—all the normal sounds that had been missing.

  Ingeborg listened to Haakan tell her about some of the farmers they had threshed for, many of them reeling from the loss of their livestock too. They’d traveled a long way west before there were cattle in the fields and hogs to be bought.

  “The Missouri River seems to be the line of demarcation. I talked to one man about buying one of his milk cows, but he was holding out for more than I was willing to pay.”

  “Have you thought of going back east to buy stock?”

  “You sound like you have an idea.”

  “Might be a way to regain some of our loss. If you brought back several railroad cars filled with livestock, you could maybe get a better buy. Then you could have an auction here in Blessing. Advertise it all over. What do you think?”

  “I think I have a very smart wife.”

  “We could sell to our neighbors at cost. We don’t need to make money on them.”

  “I’ll talk with Lars in the morning. I’m sure Thorliff would take care of the advertising.” He stood up, removing the bucket of milk and the stool in the same easy motion he always used, but the next thing Ingeborg knew, he was leaning against the barn wall.

  “Haakan, what is it?”

  “Just stood up too fast. Be fine in a moment.”

  “When did that start?”

  “Some time ago. Long as I move a bit slow, I’m okay.” He proved it by hanging the stool on the peg on the wall. “Just getting old, I guess.”

  Getting old, my foot. That has to be his heart. I’m digging some fox-glove tonight. Soon as it dries, I can pound it to powder. Her mind was off and running on how much of the powder to give him and wondering if the leaves steeped for tea might not help too. How do I get him to see Elizabeth?

  When she’d stripped the last drop from Belle, she handed her bucket to Haakan and moved to the cow’s neck to pet her. “You are beautiful. You know that? I thank God every day for you.” The Holstein next to her turned and looked at Ingeborg, as if to say, “My turn too, you know.” So Ingeborg stroked both their necks and inhaled the sweet fragrance of healthy cow. So many of their other cows had been raised from calves right on their own place and had become almost members of the family. But these two were a gift, a constant reminder of friendship and God’s grace.

  She flipped open the stanchions and watched as they both backed up, turned, and made their way to the back door and down the ramp. So many things to be thankful for.

  After pouring the milk through the strainer, they set the cans in the cold water, washed out the buckets and tipped them upside down on the shelf to drain, and then shut the door behind them, making their way to the house arm in arm.

  “Where’s the cookshack?”

  “Mrs. Geddick wanted to take it home and clean it up. That woman is such a worker and good cook. Even without butter, milk, or cream, she fed us right well. Ate more rabbit than usual, bought chickens and eggs when we could. Lars shot some grouse out of a tree one night, and we had a feast the next day. Reminded me of our early days here, before we had all that we have now. Ate a lot of beans and rice too.”
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br />   Ingeborg rattled the stove’s grate and added sticks of pitch wood to the coals. “I’d have had supper ready had I known you were near. How does scrambled eggs and toast sound?”

  “Anything sounds good. Where’s Astrid?”

  “At Elizabeth’s. Garth Wiste’s nephew Nathan fell out of a tree and broke his leg. Astrid’s sitting with him tonight. Poor little guy, pretty painful. When I left, she was reading to him.”

  “That part of her nurse’s training?”

  “Most likely.” She broke eggs into a bowl, beat them to a froth, and added cream and salt and pepper. “I take it those hogs are for breeding?”

  “The little boar is from a different farmer, so we can use him when the time comes. I wanted to buy more to raise for butchering but—”

  “You could bring home a train car of feeder hogs too. Or butchering size.”

  “We’ll be able to buy hanging halves of pork and beef most likely.”

  She set the rack over the open back lid and sliced bread for toast. “I tell you, when that first cream soured, Astrid, Ellie, Kaaren, and I made pigs of ourselves spreading that cream on bread and adding chokecherry syrup. Food fit for a queen.”

  “If we can’t buy much meat and there’s no hunting, it might be kinda slim around here this winter.”

  “Remember how Metiz taught us to dry fish? We can do that again.”

  “I thought of going up into Canada to see if we can bag a moose or two there. Maybe it was too cold up there for the disease to go that far.”

  She set his plate in front of him and hers across the table. When she sat down, he reached his hands across the table, and she laid hers in his. “I Jesu navn …” When they said the amen she squeezed his hands. “Mighty few times it’s been just you and me like this.”

  He nodded and spread jam on a piece of toast. “Any chance we could heat up some water so I can have a bath?”

  “I think that can be arranged—if you can stay awake long enough?”

  “It doesn’t have to be too hot.”

  He brought in two buckets of water and poured them into the boiler she had set on the stove.