Tender Mercies

by Lauraine Snelling

  Penny picked up her plate and scraped the leftover bits into the slop bucket to throw to the chickens Hjelmer housed back of the barn. They didn’t keep a cow, depending instead on the Wolds or the Bjorklunds for milk and cream.

  “Done?” At his nod she picked up his plate, scraped off the leavings, and set them both in the enameled dishpan. After pouring hot water over them, she slivered in some soap and set to washing and rinsing the dishes and silver. She did not ask Hjelmer to help her. And if she slammed the kettles a bit harder than necessary, he didn’t comment.

  She could feel his stare on her back every once in awhile, but he sat in his chair, reading some banking information without a word.

  Penny yelped, grabbed her finger, and held the end of it tight.

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. The knife did.” She raised her finger in the air and watched the blood drip down the side. Several other words came to mind, none of them on the Christian woman’s approved word list. She was glad Tante Agnes wasn’t there to hear her.

  “You need some help?”

  “Hjelmer Bjorklund, if you value your hide, you will stay in that chair.” Her teeth were clamped so tightly she could barely speak. She wrapped a rag around her finger and headed for her sewing basket, where she kept strips of leftover fabric. Right now muslin would be the thing or an old sheet. She turned her basket upside down with her left hand, muttering all the while. Some calicos, wool, dimity, but no muslin, no old sheeting. The entire thing fell on the floor, sending buttons and balls of fabric strips ready for rug braiding rolling across the floor.

  She looked up to see Hjelmer standing in the doorway. “Go away! Just go away!” She fought the tears burning the backs of her eyelids and plugging her nose. She fought the blood no longer as it ran down her finger and stained whatever it touched.

  She fought Hjelmer when he gathered her into his arms.

  She lost all around. The tears rolled as he bandaged her finger, and she couldn’t quit crying. She cried for the hurt from the morning, she cried for the snubs the day before, she cried for the cut finger and her bad language.

  And when the tears kept on falling, she knew she was crying because she’d started her monthlies again, and there was no baby in store for the Hjelmer Bjorklund family—if two people could be called a family. Why had God deserted her like this?

  Tuesday passed in a whirlwind of cooking, serving, finding things for store customers and ordering supplies. By late afternoon when the mail came in, Penny felt as if three days had passed instead of one. She sorted the mail into the slots and handed it out again to those who stood waiting. The good part of having people waiting for the mail was that they usually picked up something to purchase. The not so good part was that sometimes they were impatient.

  “Mail was late today, eh?” Mrs. Valders laid some lace on the counter. “Seems to me they ought to be able to keep the trains on time, don’t you think?”

  “That would be better. How much of this did you want?” Penny held up the lace-wrapped card.

  “Can I get my mail? I gotta get home for chores,” Mrs. Johnson interrupted, the note of impatience in her voice grating on Penny’s nerves.

  “Let’s see, I need it around the neck, the arms, and I think I’ll do a trim around the skirt too. What do you think?”

  “Excuse me a moment, Hildegunn, let me get the mail. How full is the skirt?” She reached for the mail slot as she asked. Handing out mail for three of those waiting, she smiled at the others in the line.

  “Let me go get someone else to help here.”

  She checked in the bank room. No one there. Had Valders already gone home? She went out the door and to the blacksmith. While there was no Hjelmer in sight, Ephraim was sweeping up straw and horse droppings.

  “Can you please come help me? The store is full, and I can’t keep up.”

  “Sure enough.” He leaned the broom against the wall.

  “You better wash first.” If you move any slower, you’ll be going back-ward. She knew better than to say such things, but oh . . . She pasted a smile on her face and hurried back into the store. “Sorry.”

  “Now, Hildegunn, how much did you decide?”

  “I think I’ll wait on it until I measure. Hate to buy too much, you know.”

  Penny gritted her teeth and kept on smiling. “All right, then that will be twenty-five cents for the needles.”

  Mrs. Valders dug in her bag for the change and counted it out a nickel, a dime, and the rest in pennies.

  A sigh came from farther back in the line, and several shuffled their feet.

  “Thank you. Now, who was next?” As the lady turned to leave, she greeted those behind her and wished them a good day.

  Ephraim tied on his apron and slicked back his damp hair as he joined her behind the counter. “Who do you want me to start with?”

  “I’m next.” Mr. Johnson plunked a box of shells down on the counter. “And I need five pounds of nails.” The two men headed for the end of the store, where all the tools and such were displayed, to weigh nails out of the keg on the floor.

  Within the next few minutes Penny sold all the remaining cheese, several candy sticks, the last loaf of bread, and the final can of allspice.

  “I have to finish the headcheese, you know.” A customer nodded and studied the row of spices. “Why don’t you give me the bay leaf too. Sometimes I wonder why we don’t grow some of the things ourselves. You think they don’t grow here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe if we got the seeds, we could try it next year. I’ll look in my catalogues for herb seeds and see what I can find. I know Ingeborg planted parsley this year. She got some seeds from someone. I asked her to let it go to seed so we can all get some.”

  “Some things do better with starts. Why, my rose, the red one you gave me a start off, was just beautiful this year.”

  Penny sent an apologetic look to those behind her current customer. The line seemed to be growing rather than getting shorter.

  Hans Peterson Wold waited for his turn. “Can I get our mail, please?”

  “Sure enough. How’s your ma?” Penny almost didn’t ask.

  Hans shook his head. “She’s sad, I think, but I don’t know why.” He eyed the jar of peppermint balls.

  “You want one?” Penny lifted the lid.

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “That’s okay, here’s one for you and one to take home to Ellie.” Penny tucked them both into a folded paper.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bjorklund.” Eyes shining, he darted out between the grown-ups still waiting.

  “That was a kind thing to do.” The older man smiled at Penny.

  She returned his smile and waited. Not too many strangers came in at this time of day when there was no train coming or going.

  “I saw some folks going out with cheese and bread. That’s what I’d like.”

  “Sorry, but I’m plumb cleaned out of both. I have crackers in the barrel, but no bread until tomorrow. I’m not sure when Ingeborg will bring cheese in again.”

  “You have anywhere in town a man might get a meal and a bed?”

  She shook her head again. “I serve dinner but not supper. You can ask Olaf Wold over at the sack house about spreading a pallet in by the grain sacks.” She glanced at the cigar in his hand. “But there won’t be any smoking allowed there.”

  “That’s all that’s available?” One eyebrow disappeared under the brim of his limp fedora.

  “You could ask at the soddy by the church. Pastor Solberg sometimes takes a person in. Otherwise, one of the farmers might let you bunk in his barn.” We’ve got to get that boardinghouse built. She wished she’d been keeping track of all the requests.

  “Anyone around here need a hired man?”

  “You know how to handle a team, machinery?” Ephraim looked up from wrapping several packets together with brown paper and string.

  “Pretty good.”

  “You might go on out
to Gustafsons’.” Ephraim gave the directions, and after buying a packet of tobacco, the man headed for the door.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why did you send him out there instead of to Haakan?” Penny asked in a voice meant to be heard by her helper only.

  “I don’t know. There was something about him that bothered me.”

  “I wish I hadn’t told him about Wolds’ then.” Penny watched the man turn left and head up the street. “That’s where he is going.”

  “Don’t worry. Olaf is a good judge of character. If he thinks like me, he’ll send him on his way.”

  The thought of the Wolds brought back the hurt of Sunday morning. Whatever had possessed Goodie to be so hateful? What if . . . She cut off the thought, appalled that it had even entered her head. Lord, what is the matter with me? With her? Please help me to . . . To what? She didn’t know.

  Since the store was empty for the first time all afternoon, she untied her apron. “Can you watch this while I run next door?”

  “Sure.”

  I’m going to take care of this right now! She headed out the back door. Now, if Goodie would only let her in. Or at the very least talk with her through the screen door.

  Chapter 15

  “Open it quick, Tante Kaaren.”

  Kaaren smiled at Thorliff as she reached for a knife to cut the string on the parcel wrapped with brown paper. Carefully, so as to save every bit of string and paper, she unwrapped the package with the New York postmark. Who would be sending me something from New York? The thrill of opening it made her go slower, much to the consternation of her nephew.

  “Thank you for bringing it home to me.”

  “You’re welcome. Tante Penny called over when we were coming out of school to say it was there for you. She was going to ask Onkel Hjelmer to bring it if she didn’t catch me.” He leaned forward as if to encourage her fingers to move a bit faster.

  “Where’s Andrew?”

  “He went to Ellie’s house. I have to go get him after a while. Mor said I could ride Jack the mule. We might get to ride to school sometimes.” He looked around. “Where’s the twins?”

  “Out in the barn with Lars. He’s got the girls sanding on something he’s making. Since they won’t tell me what it is and they giggled when I asked, I get the feeling it’s a Christmas present.” She folded the paper before slitting open the envelope that held a letter.

  Far as Thorliff could guess, it was a book, but there was another wrapping around it. Whoever sent it wanted it kept nice.

  “It’s from Mr. Gould.” Kaaren laid a hand against her cheek. “And he even wrote in Norwegian. He is such a nice man.” She read through the short letter quickly and turned to Thorliff, shaking her head. “You unwrap it.”

  He looked up at her to make sure she meant it, then picked up the paper-wrapped parcel. Sure enough, it was a book. He read the title out loud. “ ‘Teaching Sign Language to the Deaf.’ ” He looked up. “Sign language?”

  “He says he hopes this might help Grace and all of us to communicate with each other. He heard about it and thought of us.” She sank down in a chair and rested her elbows on the table. “Open it.”

  Thorliff did and leafed through the pages. There were diagrams of finger positions to say the letters. He tried a couple and handed Kaaren the book. “Talking hands?”

  “Kind of like when we tried talking with Metiz at first. Sometimes we showed things with our hands.” Kaaren tried forming an A with her fingers. She flipped through the pages. “Look, some of the signs are for simple words.”

  With him looking over her shoulder, the two studied the pages.

  “Grace will be able to talk with us,” Kaaren said.

  “And us with her. We could learn this at school, so when she comes she will be able to learn like anybody.”

  Kaaren patted his cheek, so near her own. “Leave it to you, Thorliff, to think of that. I thought I would teach her here at home, so she—”

  “But Sophie wouldn’t go without her. You know that. This way they can both go.” He formed the sign for M. “This is fun.” Paws barked at the door. “Oh, oh. I gotta go. I want to learn this too. You better talk to Pastor Solberg soon.”

  “I better learn it myself first. And the first step is to read the book and send a thank-you to Mr. Gould. What a true friend he is.” She glanced at the letter again. “But he didn’t say anything about how his family is doing since his wife died. I wonder how they are.”

  Thorliff waved again as he headed out the door.

  “So, did you talk with Goodie?” Hjelmer hung his hat on the peg by the door.

  Penny shook her head. “Olaf said she was taking Andrew home. He came to play at their house with Ellie after school.”

  “You want we should go over there later?”

  “Guess we could try again. She made supper for the two men sleeping in the sack house, Olaf said, so she should be back soon.”

  “Did you ask him what was wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I wanted to, but it just wouldn’t come. Like maybe I’m making things up or something.”

  “We’ll just go over there like we usually do and everything will be fine.”

  “I sure hope so. I don’t like this one bit.” While she talked, she slid four full bread pans in the oven and shut the door. If Goodie didn’t start bringing baked goods over or come and help out at the noon hour as she so often did, Penny thought she might crumble under the load.

  “Yoo-hoo!” The call accompanied a jingle of harness and the snort of a horse.

  Penny opened the back door. “Kaaren, what brings you out so late?”

  “I just had to show you what was in that package you sent home with Thorliff.” Kaaren leaped to the ground like a young girl.

  “Where are the children?”

  “With Ingeborg.” Kaaren gave a little skip in her progress to the door. “Penny, Hjelmer, you won’t believe this.” She sniffed. “Something sure smells good.”

  “Bread. Now what is it?” Penny felt like taking Kaaren’s basket and digging through it if the woman stalled any longer.

  Kaaren sat down at the table and pointed to the two chairs beside her. “Come see.” She laid the book out so all could look at the diagrams.

  “What is this?” Hjelmer looked up, confusion rampant on his handsome face.

  “This is the way Grace is going to learn to talk.” Kaaren spoke the words reverently, as if she were praying. “We are all going to learn to sign so we can speak with her. Thorliff is already working on her name. See the G.” She flipped through the pages. “Mr. Gould sent us this. Can you believe it? What a wonderful man. I wish now, more than ever, that I had met him in New York with Ingeborg.” She traced the diagram for G. “He has given Grace a life.” Tears filled her blue eyes and shimmered on her lashes. “How can I ever thank him?”

  “Let me get this straight. You form the letters . . .”

  “Not exactly, there are signs for sounds and some words too. But the entire alphabet can be signed. She’ll be able to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘pass the bread.’ We won’t need Sophie for an interpreter. The book says children learn this very quickly, and Thorliff thought they should all learn it at school, so when Grace gets old enough to go, the children will be able to talk with her.”

  Penny threw her arms around Kaaren. She’d never heard her talk so much at one time unless she was reading the Scripture. “This is the most wonderful thing. You’ve got to learn it quick so you can teach the rest of us.”

  Kaaren sighed. “I know. But first I have to mail this letter to say thank you. I just wish I had something to send him.” She put a finger on the letter R. “He is so rich he can buy anything he wants.” She dug the envelope out of her bag. “I need to buy a stamp too. I am all out.”

  But rich didn’t keep the poor man from losing his wife. Sickness doesn’t care how much money you have. But Penny kept the thoughts to herself. “Come, let’s stamp this and put it in the mail po
uch right now.” She drew Kaaren to her feet. “I’d send it out tonight if I could.”

  With the letter in the mail pouch, Kaaren turned to Penny. “I’ve been wanting to come anyway. Pastor Solberg saw you leave church in a rush on Sunday, and he asked me to come see if there is anything I can do to help you with whatever is wrong.” She stammered to a close. “I don’t want to tread where I’m not wanted, but if there is something . . .”

  Penny stared at her fingers spread wide on the counter top. The urge to clench her fists made her jaw clench instead. Shall I tell her? Why didn’t Pastor come himself? Would telling Kaaren what is going on be gossiping? I don’t want to be a gossip.

  She looked up at Kaaren. “I-I know you mean well, but I think we better see if we can work it out on our own. Isn’t that what the Bible says to do if you’ve been wronged?”

  “Or if you wronged another.”

  “Why do you say that?” The words came out harsher than she intended.

  “Just finishing your comment of before. Penny, I am not here to accuse you. I just want to help you work it out.”

  “Well, maybe you should go see Goodie then. Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

  “Meaning she won’t talk to you?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Again the snap in her tone. “Sorry, but this really has me all tied up in knots and . . . and . . .” She looked up at Kaaren, resentment evident in every line of her body. “It’s not my fault.”

  “I see.”

  “How can you?” Then the story came rushing out, starting from the arrival of Mr. Drummond to Goodie not answering her door and the horrid accusation at church. “She’s never been gone so much.”

  Penny felt as though someone had pulled the stopper and all her venom ran out. “I wish Drummond had never brought that horrid machine in here.” She paused, studying her hands again. “And here I was, so excited about all the sewing we could get done so much faster. Finally something for us women, like the mowers help on the farms.”

  “So, do you want me to go over there with you?”