Tender Mercies

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Into April probably, unless it all melts too fast. We usually get a late snowstorm after weather that tricks us into thinking spring has really come. You warm enough?”

  Mary Martha didn’t answer. She shivered instead and pulled the elk robe closer to her shoulders. What is warm enough? Each mile north, I’ve gotten colder it seems. No wonder everyone up here wears long woolen underwear. I should have bought some at the store. “How are the horses doing?”

  Manda shrugged. “Okay.”

  Mary Martha waited, hoping for more of an answer. “How many are you training now?”

  “She ain’t done so much since the blizzard. We have to finish shoveling out the corral for her to work them.” Deborah ignored the glare from her older sister. “That blizzard was some awful. We had to spend the night at the school, and there was no food. But we didn’t starve to death like lots of cows and horses did.”

  Death seemed to tag along with every conversation.

  Smoke curling from the chimney at Zeb’s farm said that someone was at home. A dog barked when Penny stopped the sleigh by the front porch.

  “Did you get a dog?”

  “Uh-huh. Pa brought it home last week. Thinks the poor starvin’ critter musta come in on the train or something. We been feeding him good.”

  “What’s his name?” Mary Martha reached for her carpetbag. Sam had promised to bring her trunk out later. Manda took it from her and strode up the front steps that had been swept clean of snow.

  “Spot, ’cause he has a spot over one eye.”

  “Oh, thank you, God.” Bridget met them at the door. “Praise be. ou came about as fast as your telegram.” She wrapped Mary Martha in a hug that smelled of yeast and molasses and warm grandma. “Come in, come in. The coffee will be hot in a minute.”

  “Where’s Pa?” Manda asked after setting Mary Martha’s bag on the stairs to the second story.

  “I’m not sure. But he said . . .”

  Manda left out the front door before she could finish her sentence.

  Bridget looked from Mary Martha to Penny and back. “I just don’t know how to help that girl. Neither does Zeb.” She reached out and drew Deborah into her floury apron. “Neither one of us do, huh, little one?”

  Dusk had near darkened to night before they heard Zeb’s boots on the porch. He brought in a pail of milk and set it on the cupboard counter before reaching for his sister with both arms.

  Mary Martha hugged him close and whispered in his ear, “Zeb, I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He stepped back and with one arm hugged Deborah to his side. “Sure smells good in here.”

  “Supper is ready.” Bridget set the pot of ham and beans in the center of the table. “Manda, did you wash your hands?”

  They took their places and Mary Martha bowed her head for grace.

  “We don’t say grace no more,” Deborah whispered from beside her.

  Father, help them, and help me, please.

  She gulped. “Well, I do,” she whispered back, not daring to look at her brother. She could feel his cool disapproval as she’d felt the cold in the sleigh. She murmured her prayer and looked up with a smile.

  Zeb was not smiling. He and Manda wore matching scowls. They’d already started eating.

  I guess manners died here along with Katy. She looked to Bridget, who shook her head.

  Later, after the kitchen was cleaned up and the girls had finished their homework and gone to bed, Zeb and Mary Martha sat at the table, nursing a last cup of coffee.

  “I can’t seem to . . . to . . .” Zeb studied the swirl of coffee in his cup. “Mary Martha, it’s like the sun has gone out, and I can’t find it again. I can’t stay here. I can’t.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Down south to check on the homestead that ought to belong to Manda and Deborah. I’ve been meaning to get down there and either see about proving it up or buying out the time remaining before some claim jumper takes it. Although I don’t know why anyone in his right mind would want that parcel of land. But I promised Kat-er anyway, I promised that I would do that, and this seems as good a time as any.”

  “But Zeb . . .”

  “If I tell the girls I’m going, they’ll insist on going too. I can’t do that.” The light that had been so absent from his eyes flared for a brief moment before flickering out. “Besides, they’ve got school.”

  “Zeb, God will . . .” She stumbled to a halt at the look he gave her.

  “Will you go back to helping at the school?”

  “If Jo-Pastor Solberg wants me to.”

  “Bridget will stay here if you like. I’ve asked Ephraim to help with the chores, and Manda can keep working with the horses.” He glanced up at her. “I’ll take the train both ways as far as I can, so that should shorten the time I’m gone.”

  “Looks like you’ve got it all thought out.”

  “Thank you for coming. The girls need you.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll manage.” He stood and took his cup to the dishpan.“ ’Night.”

  Zeb was gone when they all awoke in the morning.

  Chapter 30

  Mid-April

  “You think spring will stay this time?” Mary Martha asked.

  Penny looked up from the letter she was reading. “I hope so, but we could get another snowstorm or two. Sometimes those late ones are vicious.” Penny and Mary Martha were sitting on the bench in front of the store on a Saturday afternoon, soaking up the warmth that melted snowbanks so fast it was like magic. Green shoots were already thrusting through the dark earth, as if racing for the first touch of sun on their tips. The spring symphony of ducks and geese flying north, robins serenading their mates, and sparrows cheeping in the eaves swelled around them.

  “It’s hard to believe that could happen.” Mary Martha lifted her chin so the sun could reach her neck. “After going south and then coming back, it seems the only time I’m warm enough is when I am right next to a hot stove, and even then I keep turning to warm the other side.”

  “Will you stay now?”

  “Most likely. At least until Zeb comes home.” She didn’t add, If he comes home, but she thought it.

  “What about Pastor Solberg?”

  Mary Martha no longer needed the sun to warm her throat, or up to her hairline for that matter. “What about him?”

  “Come on. He’s as sweet on you as you are on him.”

  Surely she was experiencing sunburn. She shielded her eyes. “Is that the train I see coming?”

  “What else would be on the tracks? Now don’t change the subject. Admit it. You’re in love with him.”

  Mary Martha drew circles on her skirt-covered knee with a fingertip. “So?”

  “So, I take it he hasn’t declared his intentions?”

  “We’re good friends.”

  “So are you and me, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Mary Martha let out a sigh that had been festering for some time. “I told him I couldn’t make any decisions until Zeb makes up his mind what he wants to do.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Well, I’m taking care of the girls, and Sam is taking care of the farming. Manda has two more horses ready for sale, we have mares due to foal, and I can’t leave all that until Zeb comes back.” Much as she wanted to. When John had talked about caring for her, she’d wanted to fling herself in his arms and let all the rest go. But they were both still grieving for Katy. Sometimes she wondered who was grieving more.

  “If he comes back? I can’t believe he stayed gone this long. Surely a trip to check on that homestead can’t take two months.”

  “Six weeks.”

  “What if something happened to him?”

  Mary Martha jerked around to face her friend. “Don’t say that!”

  “Sorry.” Penny raised her hands as if she needed a barrier. “But sometimes you have to think about those things.”

  “Look who’s talkin
g. How long did you wait for Hjelmer?”

  “Too long. Seems I’ve spent half my life waiting for Hjelmer. He better be on this train if he knows what’s good for him.” She glanced up the track in time to hear the whistle blow. “You know my letter?”

  “Um.”

  “It’s from my sister. One day I’ll get to see some of my family again. She said they might make the trip out here and look into buying land or going farther west to homestead. Thanks to cousin Ephraim, I found two of them, my brother David and my middle sister Rose. Only two more to go. Isn’t that something?”

  “That’s pretty wonderful all right. Don’t know what I’d have done growing up without Zeb to mother. Ma was too busy making sure we had a home and food to do much for him. I’ll never regret the time we spent together.” She sighed again. This seemed to be a day for sighs. “I better go. The girls will be worrying about me. We have plenty to do at home. The work is just getting away from us, I’m afraid. I don’t see how I can keep on helping at the school much longer.”

  “Why don’t you wait and see if you have any mail?”

  Mary Martha settled back down. “I guess.” When it came right down to it, she didn’t blame Zeb a bit for not coming home. Sorrow seemed to permeate even the walls of the house. But she knew he’d be back in time for the fieldwork. He wasn’t a quitter by any means, even though Manda said this was just like when her real pa left them and never returned.

  Zeb will come back. She’d repeated those words to herself more times than she wanted to count.

  The train screeched to a stop, steam boiling out from around the wheels. The conductor stepped down and set the stool by the stairs. Hjelmer swung down, bag in hand, and Penny rose to greet him.

  The sight of the smiles they shared and the way he took her arm made Mary Martha flinch at the stab of jealousy she felt in her heart. Mary Martha, just like the women in the Bible, always taking care of someone else. When will it be my turn?

  Sunday after church, Mary Martha waited until most of the other church members had left and then approached Pastor Solberg. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Of course. Oh, oh. I don’t like the look on your face.”

  “Me either. But I’ve had to come to a decision. I will be able to help at the school only one or two days a week, and then I’ll have to quit entirely. There’s just too much to do at the farm. We can’t keep up.” And I can’t keep up being just a good friend forever. I want more.

  “I . . . I’m sorry to hear that. We—the children, ah—things have been so much better since you have come back.” When will I see you? I can’t come calling every day. That’s not proper.

  “Well, I have been glad to help.” She turned when Manda called her name. “I must go.”

  “You will come this week?” Please say yes.

  “Yes, Tuesday and Thursday.” If only he seemed more . . . more—was sad the right word?

  The weather turned even warmer, and each day the roads grew soggier. Horses’ hooves picked up twenty pounds of gumbo each, and wagon wheels groaned under the extra weight. After talking it over with his deacons, on Thursday Pastor Solberg sent a letter home with his pupils saying that Saturday would be the day for burying. All of the coffins were in the ice house, awaiting such a day.

  “Ah, Zeb, you got to come home by then.” Mary Martha read the letter to Bridget.

  “We can’t bury Katy and the baby without him here.”

  “I know, but we can’t—I mean, the bodies are . . .” God, I can’t abide this. Waiting so long to bury a body, and now we can’t wait any longer. Please bring Zeb home, please, for his sake and ours.

  Zeb and his horse, Buster, got off the train the next afternoon.

  “Pa’s home!” Deborah came shrieking into the house, eggs leaping from her clutched-up apron as she ran.

  “Deborah! Look at the mess!” Bridget put both hands to her cheeks.

  “Oh. Sorry.” The little girl put the remaining three whole eggs on the counter. “I’ll clean up the broken ones.”

  “You wasted the good eggs.”

  “I . . . I said I was sorry.” Tears filled the little girl’s blue eyes.

  “I know but . . .”

  “That’s all right this time, Bridget. Leave her be.” Mary Martha took one look at Deborah’s apron and tried to keep from laughing. “That’s a new way to scramble eggs, that’s for sure.”

  Mary Martha hesitated to go outside to see her brother. Would he be himself again, or would the news of the morrow send him backward? “Let’s pour this into the dog’s dish.”

  “But Pa is here.”

  “All right, I’ll take care of the eggs, and you go see him.”

  “Thank you.” Never had an apron been untied so quickly, and Deborah scampered out the door.

  Bridget had gone to the window, so Mary Martha joined her. They watched Zeb crouch down to catch Deborah as she flew into his arms. He said something to her, and she locked her arms around his neck.

  Mary Martha searched for Manda. She was nowhere to be seen.

  Zeb made his way to the house with Deborah perched on his hip and Spot leaping around his feet.

  “Welcome home.” Mary Martha met him at the door.

  “Looks like I made it just in time.”

  “Ja, you are a good sight for these eyes.” Bridget wiped her hands on her apron and reached for Deborah, who pulled away. “You’re too big a girl to be carried like that.”

  Zeb set her down at his side. “ ’Bout broke my back for sure.” His smile made her smile back. But the smile never reached his eyes.

  “Where’s Manda?” Mary Martha asked.

  “Out in the corral behind the barn. Said she’d be in after a while.” Zeb hung his flat-brimmed hat on the peg by the door. He ran his hands through hair that now glinted with bits of silver. “Any coffee? I haven’t had decent coffee since I rode out of here.”

  “I’ll make some fresh.” Bridget bustled away.

  “I got the papers for the girls. The land is now theirs, held in trust by me. I leased it out to a rancher near there. Won’t bring in much, but the well made it worth his while.” He sank into a chair at the table and scrubbed his scalp with his fingertips. “Mercy, but I need a bath.”

  “We’ll bring in the washtub and put extra water on to boil. Supper will be ready in a bit.”

  “Good.” He took the cup and saucer Bridget handed him. “Mange takk, Mor.”

  “Praise be to God, you came back in time.”

  He sighed and sipped.

  “That will have to make do until the new pot is ready.”

  “This is fine. Beats that mud I been making.” He sipped his coffee and sighed again, staring into the brown depths as if that could keep him from looking around the house.

  Mary Martha knew he could only think of Katy. Her imprint lay on everything in the house, her laugh echoed in the corners, and without her the house seemed to hover in expectation of her return.

  She laid a hand on his shoulder, wishing she could make things different for him. All those years together she had fixed his toys, bandaged his wounds, and held him when he cried. And now, when he hurt the most, there was nothing she could do. “You heard then?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be grateful to get that part over with. Wish now I’d waited to come home.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  He scrubbed his scalp again. “Yes and no.”

  “Pa?” Deborah hung near his elbow.

  Without another word, he put an arm around her and pulled her to him. If only he could do the same for Manda.

  But when Manda came in, as usual she said not a word. She ate, helped with clearing the table, and got out her school books.

  “Manda.” His voice made her chalk falter on the slate.

  She waited without looking up.

  “Thank you for taking such good care of the horses and things around here.” When he leaned over to touch her, she flinched away.

 
Zeb looked across the table at Mary Martha, who shrugged and nodded at the same time.

  “G’night.” The girl snatched up her books and headed up the stairs as if they were chasing her.

  Bridget turned from washing dishes in a pan on the stove. “Your bath water is about hot.”

  “Good, thanks.”

  “I’ll tuck the girls in, give you some privacy.” Mary Martha held out a hand to Deborah. “Let’s get you washed up, gettin’ past your bedtime.”

  Deborah reached up and kissed Zeb on the cheek. “I’ve missed you, Pa. Manda said you weren’t coming back, but I knew you would.”

  As soon as the dishes were done, Bridget dragged the tub in front of the stove and began pouring the hot water in.

  “I can do that.” Zeb got to his feet. “I’m so tired, I think I could sleep for a week.”

  “Bridget has been sleeping in your room, we can . . .”

  “No!” Zeb waved his hands like she was a pesky fly. “I’ll sleep in the spare room.” He looked around like an animal seeking escape. “I . . . I can’t . . .”

  “Zeb, that’s all right. I understand. I’ll make up that bed then.” She went softly up the stairs, aching for the man who sat as if he had no will to move—ever again.

  While the funeral for her mother had carried a sense of rejoicing for a saint who went home, the people gathered around the five pine boxes looked as desolate as the windswept prairie. She heard the ancient words as from a far distance, not permitting herself to look at John. His voice broke more than once, and someone behind her was sobbing. Manda and Deborah stood on either side of her, hanging on to her hands as to a lifeline in a tempest-tossed sea. Zeb stood like a wooden soldier right behind her.

  One by one the boxes were lowered into the holes that had been dug for them.

  Ah, Katy, I don’t even have any flowers for you, and the laughter is all gone. Sleet stung their faces as Mary Martha held Deborah against her side. Manda had taken two steps away and released her hand.

  Yesterday the birds were singing, and today winter is trying to blow us off the land again.