A Harvest of Hope

by Lauraine Snelling

  Back to the bathroom and this time a drink of water too. Anything to soothe her throat. It felt as if she’d been coughing and swallowing sand. But moments later, the nausea returned with a vengeance, and she lost the water. She must drink it more slowly.

  Back sitting on the bed, she checked the other pillow. Yes, Daniel had slept there. But she’d not even been aware of him in bed with her. Surely she had missed out on Sunday, since she vaguely remembered waking in the dusk. Was it Monday? Had he already gone to work? She listened closely, surely that was voices she heard.

  Steps on the stairs, and to her relief, Daniel came through the doorway. “Good morning.” His smile didn’t quite make it to his eyes. Was something terribly wrong?

  “What day is it?”

  “Tuesday.” He sat down beside her and took her hand. “Mother wants to know if she can bring you a tray.”

  Astrid thought about food, and even the thought made her stomach shudder. “Tea maybe?” The words took effort. “What is wrong with me?”

  “Your mother called it a breakdown.”

  The tears started again, only a drizzle this time. How could one body have so many tears? Shoulders curved, she huddled into herself. The warmth of his arm around her shoulders felt like a lifeline.

  “I . . . I’m so tired.” Even those few words took effort.

  “You don’t have to get up.” He kissed the top of her head.

  Waves of weariness threatened to take her under again. “Heavy, so heavy.” Her head dropped to his shoulder as if unhinged. “Takk.” Did the word get spoken or not? Grateful for his help, she burrowed back into the pillow. Surely if she slept a bit more she would feel like getting up.

  “Her vitals are all normal, heart a bit slow, but . . .”

  Astrid focused on the words. Elizabeth? Whose vitals? The pillow felt wet beneath her cheek. Had she even been crying in her sleep? How long had this been going on?

  “I think exhaustion, accentuated by grief.” Her mor’s voice.

  “I hope so. There are no symptoms of anything else.”

  Astrid opened her eyes. Halfway was all they would go. “I’m awake.”

  Her mother’s hand of love smoothed back her hair. She’d know that hand anywhere, anytime. “Good.”

  “The bathroom. I need . . .” She needed it for the usual reason and because the nausea was back. Astrid ordered her hand and arm to remove the covers. Strange, as if she had to tell her body to do the things it usually did without attention. Instead of swinging as usual, her feet crept to the edge of the bed and over the side. When she sat up, the room tilted but righted itself when she was sitting up. “I am so weak.” The words croaked.

  “Let me help you.” Ingeborg wrapped an arm around her daughter and, after helping her to her feet, walked beside her to the other room, assisting her all the way.

  Back in the bedroom, she saw Elizabeth sitting in one of the chairs by the south window. “How come you are here?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I am your doctor, you know.” She nodded to the tray on the table between the chairs. “Tea?”

  Whatever happened to her ability to make instant decisions? After sinking back on the edge of the bed, she nodded. “I guess.”

  “You want to go over there, or we can prop the pillows behind you here?” When Mor smiled like that, the sun came out.

  “Here.” This time the pause was almost not noticeable. Instead of sliding back under the covers, Astrid waited until her mother finished.

  “We should help you over there, and then we could change the bed.”

  “Later.” Scooting back sucked her energy, but with only a little help, she could relax against the pillows.

  “Oh good. You are up.” Amelia Jeffers smiled at her from the door. “I’m heating the chicken soup Ingeborg brought.” When Astrid started to object, she raised a hand. “Sorry, I’m not listening. You need to eat something.” With that she turned and headed back down the stairs.

  Elizabeth first grinned, then chuckled. “Now that’s a side of Amelia I’ve not seen before.”

  “She’s so very capable.” Ingeborg picked up the washcloth from a basin of warm water and, after wringing it, sat on the edge of the bed and washed her daughter’s face, then hands.

  “Oh, that feels so good.” Astrid tried to sniff back the tears that welled without her permission but failed, so Ingeborg handed her a handkerchief.

  “Tears are healing, you know. God even promises to store all our tears in a bottle.”

  “He must have a bottomless jar.”

  “Our Astrid is still in there.” Elizabeth picked up her teacup and inhaled the fragrance. “I think Amelia put rose hips in this tea.” She poured another cup from the teapot snugged inside a quilted cozy. “Do you want honey?”

  “Ja, she does.” Ingeborg ignored Astrid’s almost refusal.

  Astrid ordered her eyes to stay open, but like the rest of her, they did not obey. The fragrance of chicken soup brought her back. She watched her mother sit back down on the edge of the bed and proceed to spoon soup into her mouth.

  After a few swallows, Astrid moved her head. “No hurry.”

  “More in a bit, then. You do need to get some fluids into you.”

  “I know. Let this settle.” She listened to the other two talking about the celebration on Saturday, but that seemed like such a long time ago, she barely remembered it. At least the nausea did not come on strongly, and she could keep everything from coming back.

  “I don’t think Miriam will ever live that down. Imagine her taking on Anner like that.” Amelia laughed as she spoke.

  “It sure shocked everyone there,” Elizabeth said. “Including herself, I am sure. I wanted to applaud, but the shock was too great. If only Anner would get the idea that he is mistaken about so many things.”

  “Whatever is the matter with him?” Amelia asked. “This is just not like the man I first met.”

  “Ever since the robbery, he’s been different.”

  Astrid nodded when Ingeborg raised the soup cup. She knew what she needed to do, but somehow even thinking took effort. She drank some of the now cooled soup and let her head fall back against the pillows. So heavy. Everything felt so heavy.

  She thought she’d only slept a short while, but when she returned from the bathroom, the sunset was already fading too.

  “Welcome back.” Daniel sat in the chair where Elizabeth had been sitting. That meant the others had left and hours had passed and still she’d slept. How could a body sleep so much? It wasn’t as if she’d only dozed, floating in and out of consciousness. She’d never heard a thing.

  “Takk.” Should she go clear across the room to sit by him?

  “Mother said you finally ate some soup.”

  “I guess.” Good. That had not been a dream, then. Strange how she wasn’t sure what was real and what was dreams. After all, Elizabeth wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposedly still on medical orders to stay home and take it easy.

  “Elizabeth came up our stairs.”

  “So?” He leaned forward slightly.

  “She has orders not to go up or down stairs.”

  Daniel smiled at her. “She said she is feeling almost back to normal and grateful for that. Short of shooting her or tying her down, there was no way to keep her from coming to check on you.”

  Astrid blinked and rolled her eyes up, but still the tears flowed. All she did was sleep and cry.

  Daniel crossed the room and took her in his arms, murmuring an apology for making her cry again, and with that she cried harder. “Dear heart, what is it?”

  “I-I want F-Far to come back.” The broken words caused her tears to stop. She leaned her head against him, wondering at what she had said. She didn’t mean to say that.

  “Ingeborg said she thought that grief from Haakan’s dying was finally catching up with you.”

  “Really?” Leaning against him felt so good.

  “I remember when my father disappeared, my mother was so
lost. She kept hoping we would find him and then despaired that he had died. She said she was so tired of crying. I’ll never forget those days.”

  “So when you finally found out what had happened?”

  “She cried for a while longer, but nothing like the early days. Ingeborg and Elizabeth both agreed that exhaustion would be expected after all that has transpired here.”

  Astrid thought she nodded but wasn’t sure. When he helped her lie back down, she slipped again into her inner darkness.

  Several days later, Astrid pleaded with Elizabeth not to come check on her again. Even once a day was pushing things.

  “But I feel good again.”

  “You’re not tired?” The pause before Elizabeth confessed “some” said more than the answer.

  “But all women get tired in pregnancy. I take naps. I put my feet up, Astrid. I am not a fool. I am an accredited physician, and I am being careful.” Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. “I have done what you ordered for several months now, and you were right. It has worked. I promise that I will stop if I feel any changes at all.”

  Astrid heaved a sigh. It was time for her to get going again. There was no question about that. Why had she never heard how disastrously grief could affect the body? She understood exhaustion, but . . . “I should be over this by now.” A huge yawn caught her before she could disguise it.

  “I can tell.” Elizabeth leaned forward. “Astrid, I am not climbing the stairs at my house. I am resting in between anything. I am eating right, like a horse actually, and I am thanking God for making all this possible. Miriam and the other nurses are doing a fine job at the hospital, and since we’ve had no new patients admitted, they are more than capable enough to see to things.”

  “Have you been doing rounds?”

  “I am curtailing everything I can. Thankfully, there have been no babies in a hurry to come into this world, so no night calls. I sleep soundly.”

  The dark heaviness lurked just beyond Astrid’s sight, the lack of oxygen always a forerunner, announcing the return of her nemesis.

  “And with that, I am going home to take another nap,” Elizabeth said. “On doctor’s orders—mine.”

  “I will do rounds in the morning.” Astrid spoke softly but firmly.

  “We shall see.”

  In spite of her determination to be up and moving around, Astrid fell asleep in the chair.

  Chapter 28

  Tears had drenched her pillow. Again.

  Ingeborg sat up and stripped the pillowcase off the goose-down pillow. She’d thought she was over deluges like that. Was that what had awakened her or was it something else? She listened carefully. Someone was rattling the grate, and dark hadn’t even begun to think about leaving. Who could be up already?

  She blew her nose and felt with her feet for the moccasins Metiz had made her all those years ago and she still used as slippers. A lamp glow glimmered between the floor and the door. Sliding her arms into her robe sleeves, she shrugged it on as she crossed the room, as always pausing a moment to listen for Haakan’s breathing. When would she ever stop these senseless actions? Habits died hard. Robe belted, she opened the door. “Manny, what are you doing up?”

  He turned to her with a grin. “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so thought I’d start the stove for you. I was trying to be quiet.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Five. The other milkers will be down at the barn soon.”

  Ingeborg trapped a yawn and shivered. “I’ll fill the coffeepot while you get the fire going. You want something to eat before you go out?”

  He dipped his head toward the table, where one decapitated and one whole gingerbread man lay. “I already raided the cookie jar.”

  Ingeborg dumped the coffee grounds in the compost bucket and pumped the hand pump until icy water gushed into the coffeepot. She rinsed it out and filled it with water.

  The crackle of flames in fine kindling raised the scent of pine resin in the room. Manny’s shavings were the perfect fire starter.

  That thought brought another memory: all the years Haakan had supplied the shavings as he carved spoons and ladles, coat hooks, a train for Carl, doll beds for the little girls that Ingeborg created the stuffed bodies for. Through the years he’d created furniture for the house too, her rocking chair being one of his first gifts to her. Another tear leaked over. If she closed her eyes, she could see him sitting in his chair, busy knife in hand and the shavings box beside him while she read aloud.

  And now Manny, Haakan’s pupil and protégé, was making shavings as well. He was whittling something—peg legs for Benny, he’d said. If that was it, they needed a lot of work yet.

  “You want anything from the springhouse?” Manny asked.

  From the back porch, Patches announced the arrival of the men for milking.

  “A jug of milk, please.” She checked the number of eggs in the basket on the counter. “You better bring some eggs too. Takk.”

  He grinned at her as he shoved his arms in his jacket. “Vaer så god.” And out the door he went.

  She stood there a moment openmouthed.

  Ingeborg heard the men’s greetings outside. Strange that Freda wasn’t up yet. Shortly after the Rasinovs had moved in after the fire, Freda had suggested that they have her house and she’d sleep here. Usually she was the first one up.

  With the coffeepot on the front of the stove, Ingeborg fetched the can where she kept the ground coffee and measured what she needed. That too was running low. She’d set Emmy to grinding coffee when she got home from school. Today the women were meeting at the church again to get more winter coats sewn for those whose belongings had burned. They’d received a big box of wool coating material from a church in Minneapolis that had heard of their need. Another box held winter coats. Reverend Solberg had put out the word of their needs, and other churches had responded.

  “’Morning, Grandma.” Already dressed, Emmy joined her by the stove. “Should I set the table?”

  “Did you hear Freda?”

  “She’s coming. Can I sew with you after school?”

  “On the sewing machine, you mean?” Ingeborg set the flour tin on the counter, along with the buttermilk, soda, and bacon grease can from the stove. What a good idea! Teach Emmy to sew. She was not too young. For that matter, even Inga was getting old enough.

  “Biscuits?” Freda tucked the ends of her braids into the knot at the base of her head as she came into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Never entered my mind. You’re always up first.”

  “I don’t know what came over me, sleeping like that. Why, I didn’t even hear you start the stove.” She tied her apron in back. “Did you slice the meat off yet?”

  “No.”

  Freda fetched the smoked venison haunch from the pantry. Trygve and Samuel had gone hunting and brought in two young bucks. They’d smoked the haunches and shoulders and ground some for sausage. As soon as the weather turned colder, the butchering would start, replenishing their meat supplies. Four steers were being grain fed in the corral to fatten them. They would butcher two at a time and then the others after the meat was processed and distributed among the families. The hogs were ready to be butchered too. The smokehouses would be in use full time for a while.

  A memory of the last time she’d gone hunting made Ingeborg smile, at least inside. Thorliff had challenged her as to who could bag the first deer. He had been utterly shocked when his mother won. Would her aim be true anymore, since she’d not shot a rifle in years?

  “Are you going sewing with us today?” Ingeborg glanced at Freda.

  “How about if Thelma and I bring the dinner over? How many might be there?”

  Ingeborg shrugged. “I’m hoping some of the tent people will come. Everyone who has a sewing machine is bringing it. We’ll leave everything set up and sew every day until Sunday.”

  Freda settled into a chair. “I’ll hem Manny’s coat here while the stew and dumplings
are cooking. You’ve marked both hems. Right?”

  “Ja, and I left plenty deep hems so we can let them out. He’s starting to sprout up. His pants are already getting short, just since school started.”

  “Probably ’cause he is getting good food for a change.”

  Ingeborg ignored Freda’s rancor against the way Manny had been raised. Someday he might tell her more. Right now he only let little bits of information slip out during a conversation. For a boy who at first didn’t want to go to school, he now hungered after knowledge. Which brought up another memory, this one of Haakan teaching the boy as much as he could, the two of them sitting on the porch carving or repairing whatever needed fixing. This must be a morning for memories, and thusly tears.

  When Manny returned from milking, carrying eggs in his pockets and a jug of milk, he laid the eggs carefully on the counter. “That cow caught Andrew this morning. He was some mad.”

  “Because everyone else laughed?”

  “That too, but he’s like you. Hates to see anything go to waste. They don’t make me milk her. I’m glad.”

  Ingeborg stilled the desire to hug the boy. So far he’d pulled away whenever she’d attempted a hug, but one of these days . . . His volunteering a story like this was coming more often. She motioned to the table, and as soon as the bowls were on the table, they all sat down. “Would you please say the grace, Emmy?”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. As always, the pause lengthened before she began. “Heavenly Father, thank you for our house and all the good food we have to eat. Please make sure my other family has food too. And help Manny do good on his test. Amen.”

  “You prayed for me!” He stared at her, mouth open.

  “You said you were scared of this test, so Grandma says to always ask God to help.”

  Ingeborg could see the ideas ricocheting in his mind. Emmy, all of them really, caught him by surprise every once in a while.

  He stared at Ingeborg. “Do you pray too? For me, I mean?”