“I did it. I . . . ssaid it right?” She laid her cheek against Mary Martha’s. “You thmell tho nice.”
Was that fear I just saw in her eyes? Mary Martha rose to her feet and took Anna by the hand. “That’s all right. You can’t do all the s sounds at once. We’ll work on it some more.” She wanted to skip and dance and swing her little pupil around in a circle. God, thank you. She is trying so hard. Is it just that no one has time to help her, or has she been punished for not talking right? Do I ask Pastor Solberg to call on the family, or can I go? What do I do?
“Very good, Anna, and thank you for the apple.” Pastor Solberg patted the wispy hair trying to escape from the tightly braided French braids.
“You are welcome.”
He left them outside and returned in a moment with the bell. As he rang it, the children gathered, falling into their regular places with only a giggle or two. But he heard the whisper.
“Teacherth pet.”
Miss MacCallister heard it too. And since she was behind the culprit, she took one step, grabbed Toby White by the ear, and hauled him out of line.
“Yeeow. I din’t do nothing. Let me go.”
“If you didn’t, your brother did. Which one of you was it?”
Jerry stared at her, his eyes round as teacups, his head shaking as if it might fall off his shoulders. “Not me. I din’t do it. Uh-uh.”
“Now, I know none of the others did it, because they have learned some manners, which I—” She broke off and glanced up at Pastor Solberg, who nodded. “Which we plan to teach you.”
She didn’t care that all the other children were listening so hard their ears flapped in the wind. She didn’t care that she wasn’t the real teacher. She just cared that little children should never be made fun of, especially when the action being mocked wasn’t their fault.
Mary Martha and Pastor Solberg exchanged glances and, at his nod, exchanged places too. He took the young man in question by the arm in a grip that brooked no argument.
“Miss MacCallister, you may take the rest of the children inside and begin the day.” His jaw was so squared, he could hardly talk.
Once they had gone inside, he hauled the young man out to the woodshed. “Now, Toby White Valders, you have a choice. I can take that stick over there to your backside, or you can take that ax and begin splitting wood. You will keep on splitting wood until I come out here and tell you to stop. Now, if you choose to split wood, I will not tell your mother and father about this second infraction, but if you choose the paddle, I will be forced to meet with them and explain exactly what you have done to warrant such an action on my part. Is this clear?” He gave the arm a shake for good measure. “What do you say?”
“The woodpile.”
“Good choice. And after you are finished, you will apologize to little Anna. She is struggling to overcome her lisp, and if you struggle as hard to overcome your meanness, this will have all been worthwhile. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah.”
“What?” The word cut the cold air like the tip of a buggy whip.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I’m glad you got that right.” John dropped the boy’s arm. “Now, show me how good you are with that ax.”
After Toby had split a couple of pieces, Solberg nodded and returned to the schoolhouse. Lord, please tell me I did the right thing.I cannot tolerate behavior like that in my school, and I know you don’t tolerate it either. Help me to bring these children to an understanding of your precepts if I do nothing else.
He paused in the doorway, watching as Miss MacCallister asked Swen Baard to read the morning Scripture. The boy’s ears turned red, but he never stumbled over the words of Psalm 91. Lord, please keep Anna in the shelter of thy wings. Keep all of us there. He listened for the ring of ax on wood and, when it came, breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to have to spend the morning watching that young man split wood.
“Hamre, will you lead us in prayer?”
All the children bowed their heads and folded their hands. The silence, broken by a sniff or two and the ax slamming into another chunk of wood, lengthened. Someone shuffled his feet. Pastor Solberg began to wonder at the audacity of the young woman who had asked this other silent student to pray. Out loud, no less. Should he step in? He’d just about opened his mouth when Hamre cleared his throat and began.
“We come before thee Father God with hearts full of thankfulness. We thank thee for thy Son, for this world thy hands have made, for the air we breathe, and the food thou hast given us. Help us to do our best this day and every day. Amen.”
John sought Mary Martha’s gaze over the heads of the children. He knew his eyes must be shining as much as hers. All that from within the very silent young man who wore a chip on his shoulder the size of Denmark. And here he’d been afraid she had embarrassed the boy beyond measure. Goes to show what I know, Lord. Thank you again for reminding me that you see the inward man, while we only see the outer.
While the students took their seats, he made his way to the front of the room. Suddenly the day that had begun on a sour note sang of promise. “Thank you, Miss MacCallister, and all of you who helped this morning. We’ll begin with reading for the fourth graders. Those beyond the fourth grade will please take out history books and begin reading at chapter five. Thorliff, you will assist Miss MacCallister as usual, and, Anji, would you please review the ABC’s with the first graders?”
Everyone settled to their work, and the day continued, with John keeping an ear tuned for the ringing of ax on wood. Whenever he glanced Jerry White Valders’ way, the boy seemed to be paying more attention than usual. While the stern talking the boys got the other day didn’t seem to make much of an impression, it appeared this punishment certainly did.
After excusing everyone for recess, John went out to the woodpile. “If you think you have learned your lesson, you may be excused also, Mr. Valders. I hope I will never have to send you out here like this again.”
Toby wiped the sweat from his forehead, even though the day was still brisk. “I hope not too.”
“You will go with me now to talk with Anna.”
The boy’s face grew redder. “All right.” His jaw clenched. He rubbed his hands on his pants and flinched.
Ah, most likely blisters. That will be a good reminder for a few days . Solberg could see that apologizing would be harder on Toby than the chopping. “Come along.” He motioned Anna out of the game of Fox and Geese and stood with his hand on her shoulder so she had to face the boy.
“I . . . I’m sorry for making fun of you,” Toby stuttered.
Anna looked up at him. “Thatth . . .” She paused, swallowed, and tried again. “That-ss all right.” Her smile up at Pastor Solberg rivaled the sunrise. “I done it, huh?”
It was all he could do to keep from scooping her up in his arms and hugging her around in a circle.
Toby studied his boot toes, his ears red as the blisters on his palms, then looked up at the teacher. “Can I go now?”
John nodded, but before the boy could leave, Anna took a step closer to him. “I’m glad you comed here to live, and you got a Ma and Pa now.”
“Th . . . thanks.” The boy spun away and dashed off to the other side of the school building where the older children had teams of some sort and were yelling and cheering each other on.
“Can I go play now?” Anna looked up at Pastor Solberg, who nodded.
As she ran off, his gaze automatically searched out Mary Martha’s.
Had she heard? When she wiped something away from under her eye, he knew she had.
When Pastor Solberg left at one, Mary Martha waved him off and returned to the classroom. “You have ten more minutes to finish your work, and then we will have singing,” she announced to everyone. At the happy smiles before her, Mary Martha had to respond in kind.
Two songs later, she knew it for certain. The children loved singing as much as
she did. When she heard the harmony begin to come from the taller students on the back benches, she could barely contain her delight.
“That was wonderful. Oh, if only each of you could stand where I am standing and hear how beautiful you sound. Let’s do that one again, and this time let’s do it as a round.” She divided the class in three, with all ages in each group. “Now please stand.” The scraping of chairs and benches took only a moment before they were all standing.
Mary Martha pointed to the first group and sang the opening note. At the right moment, she reverted to the first note and started the second group, and thus with the third. Three times they sang the song and ended with group three drawing out the final notes. A hush fell on the room.
“I know that’s the way heaven will sound with all the angels singing,” Mary Martha said softly, so as not to destroy the wonder of the moment.
“Now, does anyone have a favorite?” She pointed to Anji, who had raised her hand.
“Can we sing ‘Blest Be the Tie That Binds’?”
“I don’t think I know that one. Would you start it, please?”
Anji nodded and Mary Martha could see the red creeping up the girl’s neck. But in a true soprano, Anji began to sing. “Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love. . . .” The others joined her, and Mary Martha hummed along. Some of them sang the ancient words in Norwegian, making the moment even more haunting. Again, a silence followed, more reverent this time.
“We sure sing pretty.” Ellie looked up at her teacher. “Don’t we, Miss MacCallister?”
“We sure do. You may all be seated.” Mary Martha waited until she had everyone’s attention again. “Do any of you play instruments of any kind?”
Swen Baard raised his hand. “I can play my pa’s fiddle.”
The Johnson girl volunteered she could play a few songs on her father’s guitar.
“Hamre plays the mouth organ. He’s good.” Thorliff nodded to his cousin.
“Really?” Mary Martha looked over at the boy who appeared to be trying to melt under his desk. The look he shot Thorliff would have fried eggs. But he nodded when she asked him again. Ah, if only we had a piano. “Bring whatever instruments you have tomorrow, and we will have another music time. What do you think?”
“That was fun.” Ellie Peterson Wold sighed. “I like to sing.”
“I never had any idea you could all sing so well. We need to begin getting songs ready for the Christmas program.”She thought for a moment. “Six weeks is all we have.”
“Thorliff writes the program.” Andrew turned to look at his big brother. “He writes good ones.”
When Mary Martha looked toward the back row, she could see that Thorliff wanted to put a hand over his brother’s mouth. Or in it. But his red ears told her he was pleased at the same time.
“Mor said it was the best play ever,” someone else added.
“We s-sang ‘Away in a Manger.’ ” Anna caught the s word this time before lisping.
“And I got an orange,” another one of the younger group said with awe.
“I see.” Mary Martha looked at Thorliff. “Are you willing to write another play for this year?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“Perhaps we could write our own song too.” Mary Martha looked around the classroom. “Have any of you ever made up a poem and a tune?”
Thorliff raised his hand. “My tante Kaaren has.”
“Well, I have a feeling there are some in this very room who can do that too.” She looked around, smiling at each of them. “So think about it, all right? Anyone have a favorite song we haven’t sung yet?” They finished with “Yankee Doodle,” and to their surprise and delight, Mary Martha had them all marching around the room behind her. When they took their seats again, laughing and puffing, she pulled out the stool and picked up the book they’d been reading.
“Now, where were we?”
“At the part where Oliver meets Artful Dodger.”
“Ah, that’s right.” She flipped pages until she came to the right one, then with one finger holding the place, she looked across the upturned faces. “Now, you know we got extra reading and singing time today because you all worked so hard on your lessons.” She waited while Thorliff translated for the Erickson girls. He was having to do less and less as they grew more adept in their new language.
She hoped their parents would come to the English language classes to be held at the church the next night.
“Now, then . . .” She began to read.
Soon the jingle of harness outside brought all of them back to the present day.
Mary Martha closed the book and stepped down from the high stool. “Class dismissed.”
“How come it is so much nicer to be read to than to read myself?” Anji asked.
Mary Martha smiled at the question. “I don’t know, but I agree.”
As she shut the door behind them, she wondered how the funeral service was going for the Bjerkes. How nice it would be if Pastor Solberg could come back to a warm home and supper ready to be put on the table.
Mary Martha MacCallister, don’t you go gettin’ any such ideas. That’s just not proper one whit. “But it would be the Christian thing to do,” she said aloud.
“What would?” Manda swung up on the wagon seat beside her.
“N-nothing.” Mary Martha clucked the horse forward. Whatever was the matter with her?
Chapter 14
“Penny, surely you aren’t still fussing about Goodie.”
With a long fork in her hand, Penny swung from turning the ham frying for supper and shook hand and fork in her husband’s direction. “If you think I’m going over there first, you got another think coming, mister.”
Hjelmer tried melting through the back of his chair. Hands in the air, palms out, he shook his head. “Where did you ever get that idea from what I said?”
“I just know that’s what you’re thinking.” And your tone of voice.Why didn’t you just pat me on the head? She shook the fork again. “I didn’t do anything to her, and she called me a selfish hussy. I don’t even say that word. What’s got into that woman is beyond me, and I tell you right now”—she shook the fork a third time—“she’s acting crazy, that’s what.”
“Could you by any chance put the weapon down?”
Penny looked at her husband, then at the fork and back at Hjelmer. “Sorry.” She set the fork on the warming shelf and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Now, you were saying . . .”
“Ah, it’s not important.” She brushed a bit of hair back off her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Come here.” He beckoned with one finger.
“What?”
He motioned again.
She walked over to him, stopping in front of his chair. He took her hand and gently pulled her into his lap. “Now, start at the beginning, and maybe we can figure this out.” Together they went over the last few days, starting with the arrival of Mr. Drummond and his marvelous machine.
“So?” Penny leaned against his shoulder.
“I wish I knew. I’m sure it has something to do with the sewing machine. That’s all it can be. Maybe she thinks you are going to push her out.” He stroked Penny’s cheek with a gentle finger.
“I thought the same of her, but then I figured . . .” She fell silent for a bit. The ham sizzled on the stove. The pop of grease on the stove itself brought her to her feet. “Oh no, now I’m going to have more mess to clean up.” She pushed the frying pan to the cooler part of the stove and stood staring at it. “I thought about Goodie taking away my business, you know, if she put in cloth and such, and I started to get all het up about it. But then I figured that I’ve got enough other things here, so if she wants to sell the machines and all that goes with sewing, so be it.” She turned to face her husband. “I was going to tell her that, but I didn’t take the time, and . . . and then she didn’t—wasn’t home, I think, and now this.” She raised her hands in the air and dropp
ed them again. “You think it could be such a simple thing as this?”
“Could be. It’s a shame to let business get in the way of neighbors and family. You want we should go talk with them?”
“But what if she—I mean, I . . .” She took some already cooked potatoes and began cutting them up into melted butter in another pan.
“If we’re going to go, we better go now.” He stood and folded the paper he’d been reading until she had smashed it in his lap. “Good thing I was done with that.”
Penny looked at the wrinkled paper and shrugged. “Sorry.” She pushed both pans to the back of the stove and took her shawl off the peg by the door. “I’m ready.” Not really. All I want is things back the way they were before Drummond came. And I really like the sewing machine, but I hate all this.
They knocked on the back door of the Wold home. And knocked again. But no one was home.
“Do you think they’re just not answering the door?” Penny asked as they strolled back home.
“No. There were no lamps lit.”
“But it’s suppertime.”
“So they are visiting someone else.”
“Who could they be visiting? They need to milk their cow. You can hear her bellering.”
“Maybe I should go do that for them.” Hjelmer leaned forward and opened their back door. “You go on in and finish supper, and I’ll go do their milking.” He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “We got a bucket?”
“In the pantry.” She brought it back and handed it to him. Why should he do this when Goodie acted so terrible, and at church even?
Supper was ready and waiting when Hjelmer finally returned. “I left the milk on their counter,” he said in answer to Penny’s abrupt question.
She set his plate in front of him with a little more force than necessary, then took her own place. Light from the kerosene lamp in the center of the square oak table left shadows in the corners of the room but a warm glow over the table. Heat from the stove kept the room comfortable, while the soft plop of a falling wood coal sounded loud. So did the clink and scrape of silverware on the plates. Even their chewing sounded loud. And the rustle of their clothing.
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