A Harvest of Hope

by Lauraine Snelling

  “It is now.”

  “Second?”

  Someone seconded.

  “Discussion? . . . Those in favor? . . . Opposed? . . . Motion carried. If there isn’t any more business, I ask for a motion for dismissal.”

  “So move.” That was Gerald Valders.

  “Second.”

  Thorliff rapped on the music stand podium. “Dismissed.” He gathered up his copy of the bank report.

  Thomas was grinning as he stepped up. “Well done, lad. Ye’ll be the president of the United States yet.”

  Thorliff laughed. “Can’t. I was born in Norway.”

  “Eh, lad, don’t let that stop ye! We need yer ilk.”

  Half a dozen men, Mr. Sam among them, came over to Manny, shook his hand, and thanked him. It must have been difficult to look happy and nonplussed at the same time, but Manny managed. Ingeborg too was thanking him.

  Thorliff asked Reverend Solberg, “What was that all about? Asking Garn Huslig and Gerald to file for loans?”

  “For some reason Anner has it against some of us, especially against any Bjorklunds. Men who are not closely associated with the Bjorklund clan stand a better chance of obtaining a loan. So I asked them. Gerald says he’s going over to the bank tomorrow.”

  Trygve, who had joined them, said, “I felt so much like slugging him! Never felt more like striking someone. I guess he’s lucky I only grabbed his ears.”

  Reverend Solberg gently shook his head. “I understand how you felt, but that was not exactly the best way to bring an enemy over to your side.”

  Trygve sighed. “Probably not. At least he’s not injured.” He rubbed his fist. “Me either.”

  Thorliff took the satchel from Manny, who had picked it up and was hugging it close. “Should we start a separate account for the fire equipment?”

  “Let me do that.” Reverend Solberg held out his hand, so Thorliff gave him the bag. “Then you don’t have to go to the bank.”

  “Good.” Thorliff smiled at Manny. “The soda shop is closed now, but tomorrow we’re going out for ice cream. To celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what? I was dead wrong. I thought he’d like me if’n I gave him back his money. Instead, he hates me worse.”

  “How he sees you is not your problem, Manny. It’s his. You did what you hoped was best, and that’s all anyone can do.” God help us all to do what’s best.

  Chapter 20

  Miriam, will you please work closely with Mrs. Bach today? We need to get her up and moving and eating more too.” Nurse Deborah was assigning responsibilities for the shift.

  “Of course.”

  “Dawn Breaking and Gray Cloud, you will be training with Dr. Bjorklund until it is time to serve dinner.”

  They both nodded.

  “This afternoon, Dr. Bjorklund will be training all of us on disaster procedures, so be thinking on that. You are all dismissed. I’ll be working on the charts and checking supplies.”

  Miriam headed for the private room where they had kept Leona Bach, since they hadn’t needed the bed for anyone else. Helping this young woman want to get well was proving to be a big order. “Mrs. Bach, Leona, good morning.” She laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder, studying her face as she did so. Skin so translucent the bones and muscles shadowed it, purple wounds under her eyes, so thin and losing even more weight.

  The woman’s eyes fluttered open.

  “We need to go for a walk so you can get stronger.” She knew the young woman did not speak English, so she mimicked each action as she spoke. “Can you sit up by yourself?”

  “Hurts.” One of the words she had learned.

  “I know, but moving around will help that.” Miriam hoped she wasn’t just making that up. “Come, take my hands and I will help you.” She helped the patient to a sitting position, then swung her legs over the edge. “Are you dizzy?” Once she had Leona on her feet, she waited for her to stabilize, then began walking her out the door and down the hall. When the woman sagged against her, she sat her on a chair they had placed there for just such a need. When she seemed stronger again, they walked back past the room and into the ward. They stopped again at the end of the hall. “Good. You are doing good.” She smiled and nodded as she spoke.

  Leona walked even more slowly on the way back to her room and, when they got there, sat down on the bed with a big sigh, her smile tremulous.

  Miriam helped her lie down. “I will bring you something to eat.” She made spooning motions. “You must eat more.”

  Leona nodded but her eyes drifted closed.

  Miriam headed for the kitchen. “Mrs. Geddick, I need something more solid but easy for Mrs. Bach to eat.”

  “I have soup, and bread just out of the oven.”

  “I see. It smells so good in here. Do you have cheese for the bread?”

  Mrs. Geddick said yes and turned to get it.

  “Let’s put the soup in a cup so she can eat it more easily. She needs to eat every two hours, she is so weak.” But when she returned with a tray to the room, Leona was sound asleep. Which was more important, sleep or food? Miriam leaned over and shook her patient gently first, then firmly. When Leona opened her eyes, her nurse motioned to the tray.

  “You have to eat.”

  “No.”

  “Just a little. I’ll help you sit up.” You’ll eat even if I have to feed you. After propping pillows and getting her situated, Miriam set the tray on her lap and sat down on the edge of the bed. She pointed to each item as she named them. “Soup. Cheese. Bread. Milk.” She picked up the cup and handed it to Leona, who shook her head. But she did pick up the bread and cheese and, while slowly, ate half of it. “Good.” Nods and smiles.

  “Now the soup.” Miriam held the cup for her, then switched to a spoon and fed her. When the woman shook her head, Miriam smiled. “You did well. You can sleep now for a while.” She removed the tray, then the pillows, and by the time she reached the door, the woman was asleep again.

  “How did it go?” Deborah asked.

  “We have to get someone to talk with her. Can someone talk to her husband and help him understand?”

  “We’ll find that woman who took her to Dr. Bjorklund. Did she eat?”

  “Some bread and cheese, and I fed her half a cup of soup. I’ll do it again in two hours. She had to sit down at both ends of the hall, then collapsed on her bed.”

  Deborah smiled and nodded. “That’s better than yesterday. Keep it up.”

  That afternoon Astrid handed out three printed pages to each of them, listing the procedures they would follow. “Once you’ve read through this, I will answer any questions you have. Two things are primary: If an emergency occurs, I need everyone to come to the hospital immediately. If you have to help somewhere else, we will send you from here. We have to know where all of you are at all times, for your own safety and in order for us to work efficiently. That rule does not apply, of course, if you are in the middle of an emergency and are needed on the spot. But people will be bringing their injured to the hospital, so this is where we must be.

  “The other thing: Keep calm and do not panic. We will take care of the injured as quickly as we can and in an orderly way, the worst first.”

  Miriam read through the pages. They looked so much like the instructions she’d practiced in Chicago, only on a much smaller basis. They had one department here rather than four.

  After turning Leona’s care over to Corabell and making sure all her bookwork was up to date, Miriam pushed open the front door to find Trygve leaning against one of the columns holding up the portico. Her rebellious heart, ignoring her former admonition that he was only a friend, skipped a beat.

  “Don’t you ever work?” Her mouth wasn’t behaving either.

  “Of course. In fact, I now have a paying job as a carpenter.” His smile added to the reaction. “I am free for the moment, and I figured you might like to see a face not of the hospital.” He fell into step beside her. “If the soda shop were open, I would ask if
you wanted a soda, but . . .” He shrugged.

  What to say? Why did she feel so tongue-tied?

  “Also, I have a mission. Tante Ingeborg has invited us to join her for dinner sometime. Can you come tomorrow?”

  His aunt’s good Norwegian cooking! As lovely as the meals were at the boardinghouse, Ingeborg’s cooking appealed. Everything was always so fresh and delicious. Let’s see, tomorrow is Saturday . . . “Why, thank you! Yes, I would love it.”

  “I can come for you and bring the buggy if you’d like.”

  “Or we could walk?”

  “That we could. Oh, and Tante Ingeborg said I was to tell you that you can come early if you would like to help with some sewing.”

  “Then yes, if you want to. I mean, I do know the way.” Even her eyes did not behave, sneaking looks at him. Small and short as she was, he made her feel even shorter. And she was afraid her bush of hair must be absolutely wild—she’d not looked in a mirror recently. When his arm brushed hers, a shiver shot to her head, taking a swipe at her middle too. They made the steps to the boardinghouse porch in perfect match.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he was smiling broadly.

  “When?”

  “Uh, say ten thirty?”

  “See you then.”

  She’d read of eyes locking but thought it a silly saying—until now. And yes, definitely, eyes could talk. And . . . no! She stepped back, whirled, and almost threw herself through the door. She took the stairs at a run and, once in her room, leaned against the closed door. Had he really wanted to kiss her? Had she really wanted him to?

  Hearing her name called, she crossed to the window. Trygve stood in the street, looking up at her. Opening the window, she leaned out, just a bit, of course.

  “I’ll bring a buggy. We could go for a ride.”

  “No. I am going to sew.” Go for a ride, you silly girl. “And I want to walk. I love to walk here.”

  “Not like Chicago, eh?” He touched the brim of his narrow-brimmed hat. “Walk it is, then.” Hands in his pockets, he turned and headed off down the street. She could hear him whistling a cheerful tune.

  Closing the window, she looked to the bed. How delicious it would be to lie down for even a little bit, but instead she crossed to the table and laid out paper and a pencil. A letter to her family was at the top of her mental list of things she needed to do. She’d just written the greeting when a tap on her door broke her attention.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me, Vera.”

  “Come in.” She’d finish the letter after supper.

  “Oh, I am so glad to have you back.” Vera hugged her and then whirled her around. “Oh, Miriam, I have news. I have met a man.”

  Miriam nodded. Should she say she had already heard? No. Vera was obviously too eager to share her news. Miriam would never want to spoil it. “And how did you meet him?”

  “Right here in the dining room. He asked if he could sit beside me one supper, and I said yes. We talked and talked. We even went from the table to the parlor so we could keep talking.”

  “I see. And what does this man who loves to talk do for a living?” Miriam already knew, but she loved to see the glow on her friend’s face.

  “He is the dentist here in Blessing.”

  “Ah! Dr. Deming!”

  “Yes! Miriam, he is so nice! He is having a house built here in Blessing, he likes it so much here.”

  “So that means that you will be returning to Blessing when we complete schooling?”

  Her neck turned pink. “Well, it certainly hasn’t progressed so far yet that I need think about that. But . . . well, you know . . .”

  “Yes, I know.” And would I return to Blessing for Trygve?

  Miriam would. The answer rang in her head clear and strong, so definite it startled her.

  The supper bell sounded.

  “Let me wash my hands, and then we’ll go eat. Or would you rather eat with Dr. Deming?”

  “He won’t be eating here tonight.”

  “I see.” Miriam smiled at herself in the mirror above the sink. Life here in Blessing was making an impact on all of them.

  After supper, she finished her letter to her family, telling of her invitation to dinner tomorrow.

  I know you would all like it here. Mother would have loved it. How are things going for you at the hospital? In school? And Tonio, with your job? There is so much construction going on here as they try to finish the buildings before winter sets in. As I told you, those people who live in tents need warm places by winter. They say winter here makes winter in Chicago look like spring or fall. But I am sure they are exaggerating. I love you all and miss you.

  Your big sister,

  Miriam

  She folded the letter, slid it into the envelope, and addressed it. Never again would she send a letter to her mother. The thought hit her like a sledgehammer. She sank down into the rocking chair and let her tears run, not even bothering to mop them away. When the tear spring ran dry, she changed into her nightdress and crawled into bed. Grief certainly had a way of hiding and then sneaking up on one.

  She spent the next morning reading one of her nursing manuals about making home visits and about the prenatal care of the mother. These were major programs at the Chicago hospital, and from the looks of Mrs. Bach, there were people here needing the same thing. Thoughts of Trygve kept intruding.

  At ten thirty, she went on downstairs and saw Trygve coming up the porch steps. Her treacherous heart did a replay of the day before. This had to stop. She would be going back to Chicago when her year here was finished, first to complete her training and then to work at the hospital. That was the way she’d planned her life, after all.

  After all.

  Stupid plan. There was another silly thought she hadn’t anticipated.

  “You ready?” Trygve interrupted her thoughts.

  The thought of after all went right out the door before she could reply.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but after I walk you to the farm, I’m going to go visit my family for a little bit. See if Pa needs a hand with anything.”

  “But you’ll still be joining us for dinner?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it!”

  All the way out to the farm, Trygve entertained her with stories of the places they saw, of the people who lived there, and of life growing up in the area. He had lived in an entirely different world than she had.

  “Have you ever been to a big city?” she asked.

  “I was in Minneapolis for a few days. That’s a real city.”

  “I have a feeling Chicago is different, but then I’ve only seen Minneapolis from the train and in the train station. It looks a lot cleaner, not with tenements like Chicago has.”

  He gave a little shrug. “I’m not sure I know what a tenement really is.”

  “The one we lived in was seven stories tall, with ten flats on each floor, the largest ones having only two bedrooms. Many families have more than five children, and often families share a flat, or several generations do. Often there is no water or heat. And if people do not have jobs, they don’t have food. Slums is another word I’ve heard used for these areas in Chicago. Jobs are scarce because there are so many people needing work. Crime of all kinds is rampant.” When he didn’t say anything, she turned to look at him.

  “And you want to go back to that?”

  “My family is there. I have to finish my training at the hospital.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life there. Your family either.”

  Patches ran up, yipping and dancing, so she leaned over to pet him. The bay horse named Joker nickered from the field.

  “Oh, how good to see you.” Ingeborg met her at the door. “Thank you, Trygve, for delivering her here.”

  “I’ll be back at noon. I’m going to go over to the deaf school.”

  “Will you please give this basket to your mor?” She motioned him not to leave and handed him a full basket. “Tell her
that’s the quilting squares we are working on.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not right now.”

  He left, whistling.

  Miriam watched him go. “Does he always whistle?”

  “Only when he is happy.” Ingeborg took her arm. “Come with me and I’ll show you the latest thing. You know who Emmy is?”

  “Yes, the little Indian girl who lives with you, the girl you bought the fabric for.”

  “Ja, and for the last two years her uncle has come in the spring and taken her back to the tribe for the summer. This year he said he would not be back for her. I made her some new clothes, and she was sad one night because her cousins don’t have nice clothes like that. One of her cousins came here last year but not this year. So anyway, some of us decided we would make jumpers and waists in various sizes to send up to her tribe. We searched through all we had and found some things that we can cut down. And I bought some more fabric from Penny—oh, and Penny donated some too. Now we need to cut them out and sew them. Do you want to help?”

  “I most certainly do. Is Mrs. Jeffers in on this too?”

  “Ja. We do quilts to give away also, and that uses up all the smaller pieces.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Cut out.”

  By the time Freda called them to dinner, they had a stack of jumpers ready to sew, each one rolled with all its pieces.

  Miriam smiled at the beautiful pile of love. “I could sew at a machine on my next day off, and I could also do handwork when it’s slow at the hospital.”

  Trygve came through the back door. “Something sure smells good.” He set a basket back on the counter. “Mor sent this to you. Guess I am just the errand boy.”

  Freda shook her head and pointed at the set table with her wooden spoon. “Just set yourself before we find another basket.”

  Miriam tried to smother a grin, but it crept out anyway. When he winked at her, she laughed and sat down where Ingeborg indicated.

  Freda set the last bowl on the table and sat down.

  “Trygve, please say grace.”

  “Do you want English or Norwegian?”