“You said something you shouldn’t have.”
“One word.”
“When we have children, you want them to talk that way?”
“They better not.”
If we have children? Each month brought another letdown. Once she’d been late and had high hopes for two days. Tante Agnes kept saying “all in God’s good time,” but Penny knew that Agnes herself suffered from not having more babies. But more babies was surely different than no babies, wasn’t it?
“You’ve gone away from me.” Hjelmer used two fingers under her chin to bring her gaze back to his. He looked deep in her eyes, his own warm and compassionate.
She felt a stirring deep inside her. The warmth grew and tingled all the way to the tips of her fingers, calling them to stroke back his hair and circle his ears. She stood and tugged on his hand. “Come on, Hjelmer, let’s go to bed.”
“If I were you, I would talk this over with Goodie right away,” Hjelmer said in the morning as he finished his last cup of coffee. They’d already heard Anner Valders open the door to the bank. The hinges on the screen door needed oiling.
“I plan to.” Penny leaned over the oven door and stuck a straw into the chocolate cake she had baking. Four loaves of bread were rising in their pans. She shut the oven door and dropped the straw into the fire. Glancing at the clock, she figured another five minutes and the cake would be done. Once it cooled, she could frost it, and with the pies Goodie was bringing, they should have enough dessert for dinner. Yesterday Hjelmer hadn’t even had a taste.
But when Goodie came, Penny was tied up with a customer in the store. By the time she broke away, Goodie had left her pies and bread and was gone again.
I’ll have to go over there later this afternoon. But the day went by so fast that they were sitting down to supper before she knew it.
“Did you talk with Goodie?” Hjelmer had been equally busy, not even taking time for an afternoon cup of coffee. Talking, with all the noon guests around, was impossible. After the diners hurried on their way, Penny was left with a mountain of dishes to do, besides run the store.
The next day Olaf brought the bread and pies over instead of Goodie.
“We won’t be needing any tomorrow,” Penny said as he set them on the table. “What with that debate and all, I’m closing the Bjorklund restaurant for the day.”
“Good idea. Besides, everyone will be bringing food for the dinner, right?”
“The railroaders can just come and join us all.” Penny stood up from stirring the baking beans. “Olaf, what do you . . .”
But he shook his head, slowlike, and backed out the door.
“Now, whatever is the matter with him?”
Moments later, a knock at the door brought her running. “Good—” She stopped. “Bridget, how good to see you and Metiz. It’s been ages.”
“We brought half a wheel of cheese—that’s all Ingeborg has right now—and there’s a box of eggs too.” Bridget turned to the wagon, and the three of them carried the things inside.
“You want we stay to help?” Metiz asked, her black eyes snapping. Short and getting shorter with each winter, her face wrinkled like an apple left in the barrel in spring, hair graying but still thick and full of life, Metiz gazed out on the world through eyes that saw far beyond the surface.
“Would you?” Penny pushed a pan back on the stove. “The tables need setting, the—” The bell over the door in the store tinkled. “Back in a minute.” She heard Metiz say, “Something bothering Penny,” as she brushed aside the curtain. Now how did she know?
By the time she’d helped Mrs. Vegard choose material for two new dresses, along with the lace and notions to match, all she could think of was getting dinner ready. She went to the door of the bank, where Anner Valders sat at the desk working on the books.
“Mr. Valders, could you please come mind the store awhile? I have to get the meal ready, and they’re already lining up outside.”
“Yes, surely.” Marking the place with a slip of paper, he closed the ledger and, after setting it back on the shelf, walked across the room toward her. He no longer listed to one side, having gotten used to living with one arm after the accident during threshing last year. “Is there anything special you want me to do?”
“Well, we need coffee weighed out in one-pound bags, there’s always dusting, and . . .” The bell tinkled again. Penny shrugged. “It’s been like this all morning.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go now.”
“Thank you so much. As soon as Ephraim gets back, I’ll send him in.” She headed for the kitchen, where the tables were all set and Bridget was mashing the potatoes. “Ah, you two are a lifesaver this morning.”
“I told you I’d come regular, if you like.” Bridget wiped away a bead of sweat from beside her eye, the potato masher waving in the air before being slammed back down into the pot of drained potatoes.
“How did you know I was going to mash them?”
“You had the masher all laid out.” Bridget shook her head. “You got too much on your mind, child.”
Metiz brought in an armload of wood and dropped it in the woodbox at the back of the stove. “What else?”
“The water bucket needs filling. They’ll need to wash up before dinner.” Many of her customers worked on the railroad in one capacity or another, mostly maintaining the tracks, so they were filthy from the dust and coal. The engineers rushed in for a plateful while Olaf filled the water tanks from the water tower.
With the three of them scurrying around, they made it just as the noon train blew its whistle up the track. Metiz was still slicing bread as Penny went to the door of the store and called her customers. “You can come round to the back now. Dinner is ready.”
Bridget set a bucket of hot water out on the bench and one of cold. Bars of soap lined the shelf above the washbasins, and towels lay folded, ready for use. A sign read, “Please Dump the Soapy Water on the Flowers.”
Washed and hair slicked back, the men lined up and found their places at the tables. There were three more waiting.
“If I bring you each a plateful, would you mind eating out here? There’s just no more room right now.”
The men nodded. One went to roll up a couple of wood butts lying by the woodpile ready to split. Two more men came around the corner of the house.
“This where you get that good food I been hearing so much about?”
“You wash up there.”
Penny heard the exchange as she returned with a plate in each hand. “Two more?” Her voice squeaked. I’m running out of food again. How will I ever keep ahead? At least she had plenty of baked beans and bread. There might not be any loaves for sale later, but that was just the way it was.
When the train whistled, four men stood to leave. Penny handed them their pie on a double-folded piece of brown paper, and out the door they went, dropping their twenty-five cents in the jar as they left.
When the kitchen finally cleared, Penny and Bridget looked at each other and laughed. Metiz shook her head. “You crazy.” But her laughing eyes told them she was teasing. “I brought more knives, rabbit skin vests, and . . .” She raised a finger and slipped out the back door, returning in a few moments with a pack that she set on the table. “Moccasins.” She set the things out on the hastily cleared table.
“Mittens too.” Penny held up the children’s-size mittens with the rabbit fur on the inside that would keep the child’s hands warmer. “You do such beautiful work.” Each moccasin had a design beaded on the upper portion. “Do you want me to pay you, or—”
“You take these, and I take flour, beans, sugar, coffee.”
“That is good, but you still have not used up all the money you earned for the last things. You don’t shop very often, and your bonehandled knives are valuable.”
Metiz smiled up at her. “Only when need.”
“Well, I’m glad we can work together like this, and thank you both for hel
ping me. Now it’s our turn to eat.” Scraping the bottoms of the pans, they found enough for themselves and poured boiling water in the pots and pans to make cleanup easier.
When they were seated and the blessing asked, Penny turned to Bridget. “Wait until you see that new machine we found. It’s going to change the way we sew.”
“Sew? You mean this is a machine for us?”
“A sewing machine that sews faster than I ever saw in my whole life. You won’t believe it. Mr. Drummond will be back next week, and I’m going to have demonstrations here so everyone can see it.” She took a bite of her buttered bread and shook her head. “That little machine will turn out sheets and towels and napkins like you’ve never seen.” She got up and fetched the stack of muslin squares from the shelf. “He did these in . . . in only a few minutes.”
Bridget and Metiz each took one and turned it both ways, running their fingers along the stitching much like Penny had done.
“You watched the man do this?”
Penny nodded. “And, Bridget, you can pay for the machine in small monthly amounts if you can’t afford the entire price. Hjelmer and Olaf both looked at it and talked with Mr. Drummond about repairing them. He said he needed repair places, although he promised the sewing machine hardly ever breaks. Just needs to be cleaned and oiled like any machine.”
Bridget handed the muslin square back to her. “If it does what you say, I know I would sure like one someday.”
Metiz laid hers down on the table. “Sew with deer gut?”
Penny chuckled. “No, I don’t think so. The thread has to be fine to go through the eye of the needle.”
“So Goodie has seen the machine work?”
Penny nodded. And hasn’t spoken to me since. “And Olaf. I was so excited, I thought Hjelmer was never going to come home that night. If the salesman had one along to sell, I would have bought it right then. But I did the next best thing—ordered one.” She glanced up to mentally count the days. “It should be here in six or seven days.”
“My land, child, when you get an idea in your head, you’re worse’n a runaway horse. What’s the hurry?”
Penny couldn’t say “to get ahead of Goodie.” She studied the lines the fork tines drew on the tablecloth. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see Metiz’ obsidian eyes zeroed in on her.
“What wrong?” The voice came gently.
Penny could feel tears burning the backs of her eyes and running into her nose. She sniffed. “Nothing.” But she knew that wasn’t true, and from the look she gave, so did Metiz.
“Ja, well, I better get on home. That horse has been standing out there for some time.” Bridget looked around the kitchen. “Let’s get going on those dishes.”
“No, cousin Ephraim does that for me. He’ll be along soon. He had to help the Johnsons with their butchering this morning.”
“Haakan says it is not cold enough yet to butcher, but he hung the deer Baptiste got last night. The boys bagged some more geese too, but nothing like that load Ingeborg brought home. Eight Canada geese, fat they were. I kept the goose grease for our hands this winter. Nothing helps cracks on the fingers and lips more than goose grease.”
“Oh, how I would love to serve goose one day. Ask if they get any extras to bring them my way. Maybe I should ask Ingeborg to get us a deer. I don’t know when Hjelmer would have time to go hunting.”
Metiz sat without moving, and every time Penny shifted, she could feel the old woman studying her. She kept her gaze from returning to Metiz, but only by concentrated effort. Finally she could stand it no longer.
“Would you like some of your staples today?”
Metiz shook her head.
Penny got to her feet, knowing the action invited her guest to leave. But she had so much to do, too much to sit here visiting the afternoon away. “Anytime you want to do some baking, Bridget, I can always use more. I’ve been bagging cookies, and the men take those with them. They’d take a whole pie, some of them, if I had it to sell.”
“Maybe we should start a bakery.”
Penny nodded at Bridget. “So many good ideas and so few hours in the day. That train going through here surely did make a difference.” As they made their way toward the door, she snatched up one of the napkins. “Show this to Ingeborg and Kaaren and see what they think.”
Metiz stopped with one foot on the wagon wheel. She turned to give Penny another one of her looks that seemed to go clear to the heart. “You do best.”
Penny’s next words caught in her throat. But what is best? And for whom? And besides, Goodie knows the way to my house just like I know the way to hers. Finally she said, “Ja, well, it goes both ways.” She helped Bridget up into the wagon and stepped back.
Smoke curled out of the chimney of the house next door, not from the sack house. Just a quick walk across the field and she would be at Goodie’s door. But what do I say? I have done nothing wrong, have I? Then how come I feel like I have? She waved good-bye to her departing friends. Right now, she wished they would stay.
Go on over there and talk with Goodie, she told herself, then took her order to heart and strode across the acre piece. But when she knocked on the door, there was no answer. She stepped back. Surely the fire would be banked if no one was home. Did that curtain move upstairs or was it the wind?
Maybe Goodie was sick.
Penny pushed open the back door and stuck her head inside. “Goodie, are you here?”
Nothing. Maybe she’d gone to get the children from school. Or was visiting someone.
Or maybe she didn’t want to talk with Penny at all.
Chapter 11
“Haakan, remember that matter you came to me about?”
“Ja, Pastor, I do.” Haakan took his foot back down from the wagon wheel. “What about it?”
“I took care of it. No need for you to be concerned any longer.” Pastor Solberg stuck his hands in his pockets.
“Mange takk. I do appreciate that. I just didn’t know what to do.”
“Well, I don’t think he will be so rough with her again. Thank you for putting me in mind of it.”
“Ja, since they stay outside of the community, I just didn’t know what else to do.” Haakan lifted his hands and let them drop again while he spoke. The silence between the two men slipped by, leaving a feeling of camaraderie behind.
“October sure is flying by, isn’t it? That’s that north wind warning us.” Solberg glanced to the north, but the horizon held no storm clouds, only the haze of fall.
The horses stamped and blew clouds of steam into the cold air. The jingle of their harnesses made Haakan step back up on the wagon wheel. “I’d best be on my way. We’re going to be butchering first thing in the morning. If you have nothing else to do, we can always use an extra hand.” He swung on up to the wagon seat and unwrapped the reins from the brake handle. “See you then?”
“I might do that.”
“Zeb and his family will be over to help, along with the Baards. It will be more like a party than a workday. And there’ll be klubb for supper.”
“Bribery it is then, eh?” Solberg stamped his feet. “I’ll be there.” His ears at least had warmed up—at the mention of the MacCallisters. That meant Mary Martha would be there. As if he didn’t see her enough every day at school helping the Erickson girls and little Anna.
He waved again at Haakan and turned toward the soddy. The package under his arm would taste good with a cup of coffee. Bridget had sent him some lefse. The pencils and paper he’d purchased, along with some things for his cupboard, promised him an evening of pleasure. Preparing the Sunday sermon took several nights of studying, thinking, and praying for wisdom, then Friday night he wrote it out. If he waited until Saturday, there was no more time to rethink it, and besides, many times he was invited out to one of the farms to join the families in whatever they were doing. Like this invitation from Haakan.
The cat greeted him with a meow and a winding around the legs, then leaped up on the chair, kneading
and purring. He knew the routine about as well as the man.
“Already need the lamp, don’t we?” John took a spill from the can on the wall, then lighting it in the stove, he touched the lamp wick until it flared. His mother would say his lamp chimney needed washing, and she would be right. So many little things needed doing around here, things that he never got around to doing since school had started again.
After opening the stove draft, John laid a couple sticks of wood on top of the coals and watched while they caught. He should be out chopping wood, for the pile was getting low. Setting the lids back in place, he pulled the coffeepot forward and checked the reservoir. That needed filling too. But first the sermon. He buttered the lefse and sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on it, then he took his hot cup of coffee with the plate of rolled lefse and settled into his chair. The cat jumped on his lap, licked his chin once, then kneaded his way in a circle and curled up, his purr rattling the windows.
Solberg quieted his mind while sipping his coffee and enjoying the lefse. “Father God, you know I can’t do this without you. I want them to hear your words, not mine. Please fill my mind with yourself so that this sermon, this service, radiates your love and forgiveness, Father, that we can continue to draw closer to you.” He sighed. “How can I get them all into your Word every day? How can we survive without you?”
The cat purred on. The peace of the room seeped into his soul. He picked up his tablet and pencil and began to write. “Dearly beloved, I write this that you may know, and that knowing, you may have eternal life.” He continued with the passage from 1 John, reading parts of it aloud, looking for other references about the value of taking in the Word. As he read them, he wrote them on his paper, closing his eyes and being silent before the Father.
When he finished, there were more of God’s words on the pages than his, just the way he liked it. So often someone commented on how wisely he wrote, and he had to laugh. “Those are God’s words, not mine.” So often he said that. He read through the pages again, making some changes and thinking about what he knew of his people’s needs.
Tender Mercies Page 10