Tender Mercies

by Lauraine Snelling

  The Christmas rose is blooming and the crocuses are just beginning to show color. Mother loves the snowdrops and feared she would never see them again. I am looking forward to the furring of the oak trees as the leaves begin to unfurl. Uncle Jed says there are kittens in the barn, and when you see Zeb, tell him old Blue is heavy with pups.

  I think of you so often, and I pray that God will keep you through the winter and bring spring back into your life and heart again.

  Yours in Him,

  Mary Martha

  Blessing

  The sound of a wolf howling woke Ingeborg during the night several weeks later. She lay still, listening and remembering the year the wolves tried to kill their sheep. Now they were all penned up in a snug barn and safe from both predators and the weather. Lambing would begin any day now.

  She woke later to the sound of water dripping off the icicles. The March wind no longer howled at the eaves, and when she opened the back door, a three-foot-long sword of ice fell with a crash.

  “Don’t count on this lasting,” Haakan cautioned when he brought a pail of milk to the house. “I filled the milk cans in the well house. There’s enough for you to make cheese again.”

  “Good. I thought as much.” She cracked another egg into the frying pan. “After breakfast, would you please start the stove out there then?”

  “I already did.” He hung up his coat and topped it with his hat. “The sun’s so bright it hurts your eyes this morning. I saw wolf prints out around the corral. I think they belong to that wolf of Metiz’. One front foot is deformed.”

  “Wolf isn’t hers. He is free.”

  “I know. Just easier to say Metiz’ wolf. I haven’t seen him around for a long time and was beginning to think something had gotten him.”

  “I’m glad he’s back.”

  “Saw other prints with his. You’d have thought Paws would have warned us.” He took his place at the table just as Andrew and Thorliff pounded down the stairs. “You boys running a bit late this morning, eh?”

  “I know, Pa. Onkel Lars said he would give us a ride. Where’s Hamre?”

  “Changing clothes.”

  “You boys will have to take over the chores tonight. We’ll be moving the lumber mill downriver. Got to have more trees to saw. ’Bout the last thing we needed was a thaw, but I promised Sedgewick we’d start cutting for him.”

  Ingeborg set the plate of ham and eggs in front of him. “You going to be staying up there?”

  “For the next couple of days. Sam will be coming out to help around here. Since Bridget is over at Zeb’s, I thought he could share the soddy with Hamre.”

  “Ephraim is going with you too?”

  Haakan nodded, chewing a bite of ham at the same time. “I figure four days at the most, then we’ll be home and start filling the ice house.”

  Two nights later winter returned, incensed that spring had sneaked in and melted some roofs clear. He howled around the eaves and tried to force his way in under the door sills.

  The pounding on the door came in the middle of the night.

  Chapter 27

  Springfield, Missouri

  “She’s gone.” Mary Martha stood at her mother’s bedside.

  “Died peaceful in her sleep, just like she woulda wanted.” Jed looked down at the face of the woman on the bed. “Gone to be with her Maker and right glad, I’m sure.” He sniffed. “Ah shoulda knowed when old Blue was howling during the night. I jist thought some critter had come near the dog run.”

  Mary Martha wiped her flowing tears with the corner of her apron. She’d been making breakfast quietly so as to let her mother sleep, and here she’d died in the night. Ah, Ma, forgive me for not being with you. I slept too sound.

  “Now, don’t you go feeling guilty that you weren’t with her.” He turned to study the younger woman. “From that look on her face, she heard the Lord call her name and just couldn’t wait to git outa here. Up there singin’ with the angels ’stead of hurtin’ down here. Surely would be my choice. ’Sides, you said good-bye in countless caring ways, and she know’d how much you love her.”

  “I . . . I guess. But even as weak as she’s been, I thought she would be here always. Already the house doesn’t feel the same.” Mary Martha sank down on the chair by the bed where she’d sat reading to her mother nearly every afternoon. They’d read all through the Psalms and talked about places in their lives when they felt just like David, crying to the Lord. And like David, they had found reasons to praise their mighty God.

  “I’m thankful I had this time with her.” Mary Martha laid her cheek against her mother’s cold hand that lay on top of the quilt. Never again would that hand stroke her hair or turn the pages of the worn Bible lying on the stand by the bed.

  “I’ll go tell the preacher if ’n you want,” Jed said after a time of silence.

  “Thank you. And we better send a telegram to Eva Jane. I’ll write to Zeb. He’s too far away to come for the funeral anyway.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “I thought I was prepared for this, but here I am bawling like a newly weaned calf.”

  “That’s the way it’s s’posed to be. Hardhearted you’d be if you didn’t sorrow for your ma.” Jed turned and left the room, his stockinged feet soundless on the worn floorboards.

  What would she do now?

  Return to Blessing, her errant heart whispered. Now!

  “But what about this place?” Mary Martha looked upward, willing the walls to show an answer. But when she sensed nothing, she rose and returned to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. Jed would be hungry.

  Once they were seated at the table, the words just slipped from her tongue. “Would you like to go back to Blessing with me?”

  Jed stopped, his fork of ham and egg halfway to his mouth. He took the bite, chewed, swallowed, and looked her full in the face. “Now, why would I want to go and do that?”

  “Well, I just thought . . . there’s no one here to take care of you . . .and . . . well . . .”

  “You think I can’t care for myself?”

  “No, but . . . well. . . .” If she could ever get her tongue untwisted, she might make some sense. “But this is a big place for one man to care for, and . . .”

  She wound to a stop at the look in his eye.

  “I take it you want to go back to Blessing?”

  She nodded and shifted her knife and fork. The eggs on her plate had congealed in the gravy and stared up at her like two huge yellow eyes.

  “I . . . I have a good life there with Zeb and Katy and my work with the children.”

  “And that preacher feller?”

  She shrugged. “Time will tell.”

  “But you care for him.”

  She nodded again and realigned the coffee cup with the silver. “But I don’t want to leave you all alone here either.”

  “Ah, missy, I been alone in the midst of the crowd all my life. I don’t need much, and this place will more than provide it. It’ll be here for you anytime you want to come home, and someday you might want to bring your young’uns back here to see where you growed up. Same goes for Zeb and Katy. You all got your own lives, but this old place will be here waitin’.”

  Mary Martha patted his age-spotted hand. “There’s always a place for you wherever we are.”

  “Ah know that.”

  She blew her nose and cut a bite of meat. “Reckon we better get ready for the folks who want to come say good-bye. I’ll wash and dress Ma so she looks good for company while you go tell the news.” She glanced around the house that was already spotlessly clean. “No sense cookin’. They’ll be bringin’ enough food to feed Sherman’s army.”

  Dear Zeb and Katy and girls,

  Ma went to sleep here three nights ago and woke up in heaven. We buried her in the churchyard this afternoon, as she wished. Everyone in the parish came to offer their condolences and share some story how Ma helped them in a time of need. While I knew she did things like that, I had no idea the far-reaching effects.
She will be and has been missed around here since she took sick.

  Mary Martha went on to describe in detail the funeral and the time of mourning at the homeplace, then came to a close.

  I plan to pack my things and return to Blessing as soon as I am able. Give my love to everyone, and if there is anything you would like me to bring, let me know. Uncle Jed will stay on here at home. I tried to talk him into coming with me, but he says pulling up roots now might damage them so bad they won’t go down deep again. I’ll see you soon.

  Your loving sister,

  MMM

  The letter to John—she could no longer think of him as Pastor Solberg—took longer as she described the people and the feeling at the church.

  Ma’s death was far different from the death of little Anna. While there was sorrow, we all rejoiced that Ma had gone on to her reward. I like to think of the angels rejoicing over one returned home, and I know they sang a full concert when Anna arrived. It must be so hard to wait and have the burying in the spring like you must do. Like never an end to the grieving.

  While I am sad and miss my mother dearly, I can no longer think of this place as home and am impatient to finish clearing things away and board the train for Blessing. If there is still a place for me to help in your school, I will be most delighted to take up where I left off.

  She wiped her eyes again, knowing that Anna would not be there to work on improving her speech.

  Your sorrowing yet still rejoicing friend from the southland.

  Affectionately,

  Mary Martha

  When Jed left to take the letters to the post office and pick up a few things at the store, she wished she were in the wagon with him. Why did she feel such a need to be in Blessing—not in a few weeks, but now?

  Chapter 28

  Blessing, Dakota Territory

  “Please come. Bridget says to hurry.” Zeb stood just inside the door.

  “I’ll be ready in a minute.” Ingeborg stood behind Haakan, still tying her wrapper around her. “You go for Metiz, and I’ll be ready when you get back.”

  “Right.” Zeb spun and headed out the door like a man needing to be told what to do because his mind was elsewhere.

  Ingeborg knew all he could think about was Katy and getting back to her.

  By the time she was dressed and had placed a few more things in the box she kept assembled for birthing and other illnesses, the jingle of harness was back at their door. She kissed Haakan good-bye and let him help her up into the wagon bed still on runners. The cold bit deep, even before she could snuggle down under the elk robes Zeb had spread for them. While spring had shown its nose, winter had nipped it off and returned with a vengeance, as if to prove there would be no season of new life this year.

  “Tell me, what is happening?” she asked as they flew over the drifts, not bothering with the road, since the snow had frozen enough to hold the horses again.

  “The baby started to come in the afternoon, but no matter how hard she struggles, it just won’t be born. Bridget has done all she can and asked me to come for you. Oh, Katy is so weak. I can’t lose Katy.” The last words roared from his throat as if he shook his fist at the heavens.

  Oh, Father in heaven, please strengthen our girl. Hold her in the palm of your mighty hand and help this baby come into life, squalling and pink. Father, we beseech you on Katy’s behalf, give Zeb the strength to bear what he must and give us wisdom to be your hands here on earth. She answered when spoken to but otherwise kept on with her praying.

  As the horses raced across the frozen snow, Ingeborg went over in her mind what they could do to help. She and Metiz were out of the wagon bed almost before the team came to a sliding halt. They hurried into the house and into the bedroom, where Bridget shot them a look of pure fear.

  “She’s so weak already, she can hardly push.”

  Ingeborg shucked her outer things. “Let me wash my hands, and then we’ll see where we are.”

  “Katy sleep. Good.” Metiz scrubbed right beside Ingeborg.

  “How do we give her the strength to bring this baby into the world?”

  “Work. Talk to Great Spirit.”

  Katy whimpered as they reentered the room. Her eyes fluttered open. “Zeb? Where’s Zeb?”

  “He’s out taking care of the team.” Ingeborg leaned over the sweatsoaked bed. “How are you feeling?”

  Katy flopped her head from side to side. “Why doesn’t he come?” Her hand fluttered over her belly, so Ingeborg knew she meant the baby.

  “I don’t know. But you rest as long as you can, and then we’ll push that baby out, and you’ll be on your feet in no time.” Ingeborg wished she felt as confident as she tried to sound.

  Together she and Metiz checked to see how far Katy had dilated. Metiz shook her head.

  Why isn’t she pushing? What’s happening here, Lord? “Let’s get some pillows behind her and get her sitting up more. Bridget, how long since she walked?”

  “Hours.” Then she whispered, “She’s too weak.”

  “I know, but between us . . .” Ingeborg nodded to Metiz, who came around the bed. “Okay, Katy, my dear, we are going to get you up on your feet so we can get this going again. Metiz and I will hold you up, and you just move your feet.” Together they rolled her to the side of the bed and, laying her arms over their shoulders, put theirs around her and hoisted Katy to her feet.

  “Oh, dear God . . .” Bridget reverted to Norwegian in her misery.

  They walked Katy to the door and back around the bed. In the meantime, Bridget whipped off the soaked sheet and threw a clean one over the bed, tucking it in after they sat Katy back down.

  “I sit behind her.” Metiz took her place against the wall, and between them all, they pulled and pushed until Katy was propped against her in as much a sitting position as possible.

  Watching the limp woman closely, they could see the contraction begin.

  “Katy, push!”

  Katy groaned, her fingernails digging into Metiz’ legs as she struggled to birth the baby. When she screamed, the sound came more like mewling of kittens than a healthy birthing shriek.

  “Has her water broken?” Ingeborg turned to Bridget, who shook her head.

  “Ah.” Ingeborg took a sharp knife from her box, and when the contractions forced the opening to expand, she stabbed the membrane, and water gushed into the towels they laid in place.

  Within minutes, the contractions deepened and the time between shortened.

  Zeb stood in the doorway. “How can I help?”

  “You go on to sleep. This is woman’s work.” Bridget made shooing motions with her hands, never taking her eyes from her daughter’s straining body.

  “No! Metiz, I can do what you are doing. Katy, I’m here.” He leaned over and brushed the sweat-soaked hair from her forehead. “Katy, love, hear me. We’re going to bring this baby out, okay?”

  Metiz looked to Ingeborg and, at her nod, shifted over, relinquishing her place to Zeb.

  For a time he seemed to give her strength, but soon her pushes weakened.

  “Come on, Katy. You’ve got to push. Now, here we go again . . . that’s it . . . now push!”

  “Come on, Katy, love, one more time. Come with a big one,” Zeb chanted, picking up from Ingeborg what was needed. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he wiped them on her hair. “Good, now rest a bit. You’re doing fine, girl. Come on, Katy.”

  “I can see the baby’s head.” Ingeborg felt as if she was shouting, but didn’t want the girls to hear all this, so she leaned closer to Katy to let her know.

  But after what seemed like hours, the baby had not come any farther. Katy’s pushing grew weaker and weaker, and Ingeborg’s prayers grew more insistent. Father, give her strength now. Father God, help us. With no conscious thought on her part, the words streamed from her mind to God’s ear. She hoped.

  “We can’t wait any longer.” Ingeborg took the knife and nicked the thin skin surrounding the baby’s head. Then on the next p
ush, with gentle fingers, she tried to get them around the baby’s ears, jaw, something to help him come.

  “Now! Push!” The head cleared and with it a stream of blood. “Again. The head is clear.” She turned the shoulders and eased the baby boy into the world amid a gushing of blood.

  “Oh, God.”

  Bridget grabbed the baby, turned him upside down, and smacked his backside. Nothing.

  Metiz massaged Katy’s now flaccid belly, while Ingeborg tried packing to stop the flow.

  “What can I do?” Zeb’s voice cut through the air thick with the smell of blood.

  “Help Bridget!”

  “Breathe in his nose.”

  “He’s not breathing.”

  Bridget and Zeb continued to work on the newborn, alternating breathing in his nose, rubbing his body, and slapping his backside.

  Ingeborg mumbled to Metiz, to Katy, to herself, as they fought to stem the flow of blood that would not stop.

  “Dear God, please stop the bleeding,” she prayed over and over.

  Katy never regained consciousness. Like the lifeblood flowing from her, Katy’s spirit slipped away, never having seen her son. The son that never breathed.

  “I’m sorry.” Ingeborg dashed away the tears that threatened to drown her. “Oh, God, Zeb, Bridget, I’m so sorry.”

  Bridget crooned to the baby in her arms as if he could hear.

  Zeb fell on his knees beside the bed, kissed Katy one more time, and left.

  In her misery, Ingeborg heard the door slam. She glanced out the window to see the crack of gold in the east. With this morning, there would be no joy.

  “She’s gone, ain’t she?” Manda appeared like a wraith in the doorway.

  “I’m afraid so.” Ingeborg reached for the girl, but Manda dodged her hand and came to stand by the bed. She stared down at the peaceful face on the pillows. “Just like Ma.” She laid the back of her hand on Katy’s cheek. “Good-bye.”