An Untamed Heart

by Lauraine Snelling

  The sow lay sound asleep, her babies mounded just in front of her back legs, close to the teats. A pig pile described them best of all. Seeing new babies like that—well, new babies of any kind—delighted Ingeborg clear to her toes and deep within her soul. No wonder she wanted to be a midwife.

  “I’ll go fix her some warm mash,” Ingeborg said.

  “It seems a shame to disturb them all, they are sleeping so peacefully,” Gunlaug commented. “I wonder if they have all nursed yet.”

  “I don’t know,” Hjelmer said. “The dead one was still in the sack. I threw it and the afterbirth out on the manure pile.”

  Ingeborg nodded and heaved a sigh as she turned to leave. A thought struck her; someone should stay at the seter to make sure their patient was taken care of. Please, God, let someone volunteer. She did not want to pick one.

  Back at the springhouse, she made sure the door was latched and returned to the house, where Mari was packing food into a basket.

  “Can I talk with you a minute?” Nils asked.

  When Ingeborg stopped beside him, he said, “I have a feeling you are thinking someone needs to stay here with me. Leave me water to drink and something to eat, and all of you go enjoy the lake. I just wish I were going along, but I will keep busy. I need to write a letter to my parents.”

  “Funny you should say that.” Ingeborg thought about it. Something inside her said no. She started to answer when Hjelmer stopped beside her.

  “I don’t think I better go along.” He smiled down at Nils. “I want to keep an eye on that sow, make sure the babies learn to go into the corners. I don’t want another one to die.”

  Bless you, my brother. Ingeborg looked at him. “Are you sure?”

  “You know we don’t leave a sow alone after she farrows. It’s just not good farming.”

  She could hear her father’s words coming out of her brother’s mouth. He might not be as tall as the others yet, but his sense of responsibility far outstripped his years. She nodded. “You are right. Takk for thinking like that. I just hate to have you miss the fun.”

  “Do you have a checkerboard up here?” Nils asked.

  “Yes, somewhere, I imagine.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a game of checkers or—”

  “Chess?”

  “That too.”

  Hjelmer nodded with a wide smile. “I will find them. I can play a game or two and keep watch on the sow too. Shame you cannot make it out to the barn yet.” He thought a moment. “You ever seen newborn piglets?”

  “No, can’t say as I have.”

  Ingeborg left the two of them talking and took her wide-brimmed hat off the wall peg. “Are the rest of you ready?” At the chorus of assents she headed out the door, basket in hand. Mari followed with another, and off across the valley they went. Some walked, some ran ahead and then back, and some trailed along, studying the plants along the path, rocks, and other such things.

  “Maybe we will find a branch or something we can turn into a crutch for Nils.” Anders hung back with Ingeborg. “He should be able to be up and around pretty soon, shouldn’t he? I’d go crazy staying inside and lying in the same place for all this time.”

  “Hmm.” Ingeborg knitted her brow. “Our next job is to help him up to sit in a chair. Perhaps somehow we can carry him and the chair outside.”

  “Or we could carry the pallet outside.” Anders scrunched his mouth around, thinking hard. “We carried him in.”

  “If his ribs are well enough, we could help him to his feet, and Tor and Anders could be his crutches.”

  “If he can ignore the pain, that would be the easiest way,” Kari said, joining the conversation.

  Ingeborg smiled. All these fresh ideas from fresh minds.

  “I’m sure he would appreciate any ideas. I can tell he is getting restless and trying not to complain.” Mari handed Tor the basket. “You carry this for a while. That fishing line isn’t very heavy.”

  Tor scowled and hauled the basket two-handed.

  “Don’t swing it around. The tin of coals is in there.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He released the basket with one hand to salute, as if she’d given him an order.

  Mari started to say something but instead just shook her head.

  When Tor strode on ahead, Ingeborg and Gunlaug looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. One minute they kind of liked the young man and the next, felt more like smacking him.

  “Did you bring some of your Bible pages?” she asked.

  Ingeborg nodded.

  As the track grew steeper, their pace slowed. Ingeborg was wishing she had brought one of the remaining walking staves. An idea leaped up. That was what they could use for a crutch. Cut it the right length to fit under Nils’s arm and wrap a short piece across the top. Well padded, it should work.

  “Look up there.” Anders handed his sack off to Gunlaug and climbed up the bank. He held up a long branch. “Is this straight enough, you think?” He dragged it down the hill and measured it against his side. “It’s too short. Sure is a nice piece of wood, though.”

  Ingeborg looked ahead to see where Tor was. Since the path turned up ahead, she couldn’t see him. “Did you tell him which arm of the Y to take?”

  No one answered.

  “Remember, he has our food.”

  “I’ll go catch him.” Hamme took off running.

  Ingeborg and Gunlaug chuckled together.

  “We haven’t had any time to really talk.” Ingeborg turned and looked back the way they had come. The seter below them looked like children’s toys left out in the sun. The sheep grazed in the fenced small pasture, since no one had taken them out to find better grass. The cows were lying down, and the horses were standing in the shade of the barn. She stopped just to enjoy the scenery. For a change, no one had to hurry to do anything. Time like this was rare.

  Back on the climb, they rounded a corner, and Hamme and Tor were sitting on a rock waiting.

  Relief felt good. They all took the right arm of the Y that seemed to go straight up. But just over the ridge they could see the lake below, sparkling a welcome in the sunlight.

  Ingeborg and Gunlaug paused, their faces creased in joy. So beautiful.

  Hamme stopped with them. “Do you think the fish are biting?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Don’t be silly. She is always hungry.” Gunlaug snorted.

  “Well, not all of the time.” Hamme looked up at her sister. “Sometimes I’m sleeping.”

  Giggling, they followed the boys, who were already halfway down the switchback trail.

  “The fire pit is good. We’ll go find tinder,” Anders shouted back to them.

  Ingeborg, Gunlaug, and Kari settled onto the smooth stones that served as benches and let the others start a fire and set a pot of water to boiling for the coffee. Soon Mari joined them.

  “I’m going to see if the fish are biting,” Anders called, and the girls waved in response.

  Ingeborg lifted her face to the sun, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the lake—wavelets lapping the shore, birds singing and two jays scolding above them, the wind sharing secrets with the crags, and children laughing and shouting. The mountain music filled Ingeborg with such joy, it leaked out her eyes and down her cheeks. She sniffed but never opened her eyes.

  Her mind roamed the lake and the ring of mountains, and as she took deep breaths, she could feel the tightness drain out of her shoulders and her entire body. Tusen, tusen takk for bringing us to this place. Your beauty makes me cry and reminds me you are indeed my God. You have to love us a lot to have created such . . . such . . . I don’t have the words. I lift up my eyes to your mountains and my spirit dances and sings, and all I want to do is to worship you, to be the woman you have planned for me to be. Lord God, I am so far from that woman, I can never be her, unless you do it. How and who and when? She kept her eyes closed, listening to the music around her. Listening inside. I love you, came a whisper. I love you. The whisper circled a
round her, filling her eyes and her soul. I love you. You are mine. I love you.

  Ingeborg fought the tears, but that was like trying to stop the lake from sparkling. So she let them flow, watering her gratitude that could not find words to express. Only the tears. A soft hand touched her shoulder. When she opened her eyes and sniffed, she almost expected to see the hand of God there, but it was Gunlaug.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, Gunlaug, I am so much finer than all right. Takk.” She laid her hand over Gunlaug’s. Perhaps for now, this was the hand of God. She took a soft cloth out of her pocket and blew her nose. Sighing with contentment, she allowed her eyes to drift closed again until she heard Gunlaug whispering.

  “Look at the heron over there.”

  Kari leaned forward, and Ingeborg opened her eyes. A gray blob at the top of a stately stick stood motionless until, with a flash, he scooped up a small fish, gulping it down in two swallows.

  A pair of ducks dabbled in the shallow weeds just offshore.

  Ingeborg locked her hands around one knee and rocked backward.

  “Don’t fall,” Mari cautioned.

  “I wasn’t planning on it.” She smiled a dreamy smile at her sister. “You think God had a good time creating this scene? I think He must have. Who else could come up with such blues and greens and shapes and variety?”

  Gunlaug mimicked her friend and cousin’s actions. “I chose the Psalm 46 verses to memorize this week.”

  “What a good idea. Did you know then that we were coming up here?”

  “Nei. It just seemed appropriate.” Gunlaug inhaled and a grin split her face. “Smell the coffee.”

  Kari nodded. “I pulled it back; it should be ready soon. I’m going to walk that way for a while. Mari, do you want to come with me?”

  “Of course, but not for long. My stomach is complaining.” As was Mari, obviously.

  Ingeborg replied, “It wants food, not just coffee. You two go ahead and run along. We’ll eat when you come back.”

  As the two ran off, Ingeborg returned her attention to the lake. “I am so grateful Hjelmer volunteered to stay at the seter. Otherwise I was going to have to.”

  “You could have asked one of us, you know.”

  “I know, but everyone was so looking forward to getting away.” She spotted more ducks swimming out in the lake and counted to ten. There would soon be ducklings swimming behind their mors.

  “He likes you, you know.”

  “Who?” Ingeborg’s eye brows arched high.

  “Nils, silly. He follows you with his eyes whenever you are in the house.”

  “He is just grateful we saved him.”

  “No, I know the difference. He is really . . . I think he is falling in love with you.”

  “Oh, Gunlaug, don’t be a silly romantic. You see love everywhere.”

  “Maybe that is why I recognize it, and you turn a blind eye.”

  Ingeborg planted her feet firmly back on the ground. “He is a son of wealth and city and business and society, and I am a farmer’s daughter from a small village. He would no more fall in love with me than . . . than that heron would become a duck.” Words were not enough. “Gunlaug, do not ever mention this to anyone. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, but you wait. You’ll see. He is everything you have always said you wanted in a man. He is educated, loves to discuss stuff we never even think about—well, you do but not the rest of us. He makes you laugh, and you make him laugh. You have to admit, he is one very good-looking man. Just wait until he gets to shave and bathe, and if he were to wear good clothes, you would be surprised.”

  “Well, all that is not going to happen, other than getting him on his feet so he can leave and go back to a life I cannot even imagine.” Ingeborg stood. “Let’s start setting out the food. This area is flat. We can spread the picnic cloth here.”

  “Or by the fire. I wonder what happened to the dry bushes we had by the fire ring last year.”

  “Someone probably burned them. Shepherds. Hunters. We aren’t the only people who come here.”

  “Can we go ahead and eat without the two fishermen?” Kari asked when they returned, panting.

  “We’ll holler, and if they show up, good. If not, too bad.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Dinner is ready!”

  “Coming.” Hamme answered from wherever she and Jon were playing. A halloo came from around the lake.

  “They all heard.”

  Jon and Hamme ran in, panting when they stopped. They were about to say grace when Anders called that they were coming.

  “No fish?” Ingeborg asked when she saw them.

  “No, just swimming around the lake, not biting on anything.” They set down their fishing gear. “I kept Tor from jumping in to snag one. He didn’t realize the water was probably twenty feet deep—and ice cold.”

  Tor complained, “You could see them clear as your face. Huge trout just swimming around. It’s not fair.”

  “No flies or other bugs yet either. Do you think they know the difference?”

  Ingeborg shrugged. “It’s a good thing we brought food, eh? Let’s say grace.” She started and they all joined in.

  “Help yourself.” Mari pointed to the laden picnic cloth. “There should be plenty.”

  There wasn’t any left when they finished. Mari poured another round of coffee and set the pot away from the fire.

  Ingeborg looked about. “Shall we sit around here for worship?”

  When they were all seated, Gunlaug started one of the hymns that everyone knew. Ingeborg marveled again at how lovely their voices blended. They sang for a while, then Ingeborg read from her Bible pages.

  Gunlaug announced that it was Bible verse time and began with her own. “Psalm forty-six, verses one through three. ‘God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah.’”

  The others recited the verse with her, some of them stumbling more than once.

  Anders wagged his head. “Imagine these huge mountains shaking and getting tossed into the sea!”

  Kari reminded him, “God can do it. He can do anything.”

  “I wonder how many mountain references there are in the Bible.” Kari leaned forward to pick up a little rock to throw in the water. They all watched the circles widen and spread.

  “There must be hundreds, especially if you include hills.” Gunlaug recited, “Psalm one-twenty-one, verses one and two. ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.’”

  They recited the verse until everyone had it. They now had two memorized for the day.

  Ingeborg clapped her hands. “We all need applause. Well done.”

  Mari giggled. “I knew that one already.”

  “Then we should find you a new one.”

  “Not fair.”

  Ingeborg laughed and started another hymn. When the music trailed off, she bowed her head. “God in heaven, you who made these mountains and all the beauty that is here, we thank you for sharing it with us. Thank you for this most perfect day. Healthy baby pigs in the morning, climbing the trails, making Nils well again when he so easily could have died, providing all that we need and then some. Thank you for being right here with us, for you said that where two or three are gathered in your name, you would be there. Help us get done all the work still ahead. Protect both us and the sheep as we start shearing. Remind us to always be thankful and live our lives to make you happy. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

  Ingeborg raised her head and inhaled a deep breath of mountain air, including the peace she could feel seeping through her.

  “Let us close with our Lord’s Prayer, saying it all together, Fader vår, du som er i himmelen . . .”

  Silence blessed
them all. She blew out a breath.

  “I like our kind of church best,” Hamme whispered.

  Ingeborg didn’t say a thing. She did too. Such freedom they had up here. Going back down into the valley was not something she ever looked forward to. “All right. Let’s pack up. I see you found a few more sticks, Anders.”

  “I hope one of them can fit. If I were Nils, I’d be so grumpy by now that no one would want me around.”

  Tor reached for a couple of the sticks and the basket, earning him a surprised look but a thank-you from Ingeborg and Mari. By the time they arrived back at the seter, the cows were lined up for milking, and a couple of them complained at the wait.

  “No fish?” was the first thing Hjelmer asked. When they all shook their heads, he shrugged. “Maybe next week. I sure am ready for fresh fish.”

  They gathered their buckets and headed for the barn.

  Ingeborg saw that Nils was asleep so she meandered out to her bench where, as always, the mountains beckoned her, even more so now that she’d had a taste of the serenity she so desired. She felt it settle back inside her.

  “Who won?” she asked back inside when Nils woke up, nodding toward the checkerboard.

  “Tie. He is a good player.”

  “I know. Hjelmer does not like to lose.”

  “I don’t think anyone in your family likes to lose.”

  “Does anyone at all?”

  “Some take it more gracefully than others.” He stretched his arms and flinched when it pulled too much on his ribs. “Tomorrow I have to get up.”

  “We’ll help you. Anders will be measuring you for a crutch. He hopes one of the sticks he brought back will be a good fit, or maybe we can cut one of the staves down.”

  “That Anders—he is a good boy. He and Hjelmer more than make up for Tor. But I think by the end of the summer you will have been able to work some changes in him.”

  “I hope so.” Lord, please let that be so. “Is that thunder?” Sure enough, dark clouds were gathering in the west. Could they shear under the sheep fold if it was raining in the morning? They had to start the shearing.