A Measure of Mercy (18 page)

“What do we do if it doesn’t?” Freda asked.

“We aren’t even considering that.”

They marched up the stairs, continuing the advance into the bedroom where Anna lay curled in bed, the shades drawn at the window.

“Anna.” Ingeborg shook the woman’s thin shoulder.

Anna mumbled and blinked bleary eyes.

“You must get up now and come with us.”

Anna shook her head. “No. Go away.”

Please, Lord
. Ingeborg glanced at the unused chair by the window, then back at the bed. While picking up a corner of the bedsheet, she nodded and kept nodding as she indicated Kaaren, Samuel, and Pastor Solberg to each do the same. On three, they lifted the corners, worked their way closer to the now whimpering woman, and hoisted her off the bed.

“No! No!” Anna’s shriek was too weak to carry even to the bedroom door.

Out the door they went and, with the men in front, carried her down the stairs and out onto the porch, where the porch posts sent shadows and the honeysuckle vines lent a sweet fragrance. A cot stood waiting, padded with a feather bed and a stack of pillows.

Gently they settled Anna on the cot, and Pastor Solberg took the chair closest to her head.

Anna had not ceased shaking her head, one bony fingertip touching her cheek. She lay curled in on herself, like the newborn she had lost.

Ingeborg brushed away the tear that leaked down her cheek.
Lord,
I know this is for the best, but . . .

“Can I go now?” Samuel asked.

“Yes, thank you, son. Before you go, though, would you make sure the woodbox is full? We have beans to can today after dinner.” Kaaren glanced at the others. “I thought we could snap beans while we visit.”

“Of course.”

“Everyone gather round and let’s pray.” Solberg laid his hand on Anna’s head, and the others did the same. In spite of Anna’s attempt to shrink into the bedding, each found a place to lay her hands, and they closed their eyes.

Ingeborg inhaled the nectar of honeysuckle and exhaled, letting her tight shoulders drop back down where they belonged. So far, so good. Pastor Solberg’s words danced with a robin’s song, carried aloft by the sun, which peeked between the leaves that whispered a lullaby.

“Heavenly Father, we thank you for this glorious morning and for this place of healing. Thank you for Anna and her family and the care you have taken of them and us. Thank you that you have said to come to you all who are weary and heavy laden, that you will give us rest, not only for our bodies but for our souls. And Lord, Anna needs your comfort and healing. She has been grievously wounded, and we are fearful that without your healing grace, she will slip away. Her husband needs her here, as do her children. So we ask for your mighty hand to beat back the terrors and bring healing to her heart, mind, body, and soul. Fill our dear Anna with your love, your comfort, and your peace.”

One whimper followed another.

Ingeborg picked up the prayer. “Breathe strength into her body and break the dam of sorrow that is holding Anna captive. Free her, Lord God, as only you can do.”

Another whimper punctuated the gentle silence.

“God, I don’t know how to pray like this.” Freda choked on her words.

Ingeborg laid her other hand on Freda’s shoulder and rubbed gently.

“You’re doing fine.” Pastor Solberg’s voice wove baritone into the morning symphony.

Freda lifted her apron to mop her tears.

Lack of words did not a silence make as they basked together.

“God, forgive me,” Freda prayed, gulping between words. “I thought I was doing the best for my family.”

“God’s Word says, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ So, daughter of the King,” the pastor pronounced, “you are forgiven, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost.”

All three women were using their aprons as mops.

Ingeborg glanced down at Anna’s face. A slight smile fluttered her lips. Her body had loosened bone by bone so that one hand lay open instead of clenched in a fist.

“And everyone said amen.”

And they did, blinking and sniffing.

“I’ll bring out the tea.” Kaaren patted Anna’s hip and floated back into the house.

An hour later, amid the snap of beans and gentle conversation, Anna started to cry. Single tears leaked first and, with the release, built into an outpouring of the sorrow, hurt, anger, and fear that had been dammed inside since she held her dead infant. The women took turns mopping her face, holding her, and murmuring comfort as if she were a child again.

Ingeborg sent her silent praises heavenward as she snapped beans, took her turn with the grieving woman, and watched Freda’s amazement at what was happening. She had yet to learn that when one prayed for someone else, God frequently tiptoed in and healed the praying heart also.

When Anna finally fell asleep, this time her face smoothed free of the lines that had fought to become a permanent part of her, Ingeborg motioned to Freda, and the two of them strolled back across the field.

“Well, I never.” Freda shook her head gently, as if not wanting to disturb the new thought and experience she’d just gone through. “Are you sure this God you all love so and serve is the same one we had in Norway?”

Ingeborg chuckled. “I am sure. Perhaps we have learned how much we need Him because of the hardships we have endured here. And we have Pastor Solberg, who has taught us what grace really means. We just saw God’s grace in action. No matter how often I see Him work in marvelous ways, I am still amazed. And grateful.”

“Ja, grateful. Thank you. I think my Solem will be much more content now.”

“I hope so.”
At least he will have his wife back if what we experienced
is only the foretaste of what is coming, which I have all faith that it is.
I wish Astrid had been here to be part of this.
That thought surprised her. Did Astrid need healing too?

14

J
oshua stared at the metal blades lying on the ground, fanned around the central gears of the windmill head. They’d drilled the well, thanks to the horse-powered auger, and the frame itself was halfway up. Raising the top would be the final stage.

“Hey, Joshua,” Trygve called down from the top of the ladder, “we’re ready for the next batch.”

Joshua waved and nodded. Ever since they’d rigged up the pulley system, carrying the lumber to the next level had been easier. While they were building with wood as yet, Hjelmer was talking about building out of steel soon. As someone had told him, Hjelmer was always trying out the latest inventions Joshua looped the chain around the pallet that held the braces he had already cut to fit, tested it to make sure it was solid, and led the team out to pull up the load. The pulley and chains creaked and groaned as if someone were torturing them, and the load lifted into the air, swaying some with the motion. He watched as they unloaded it onto the boards that had been laid across the struts and then he backed the horses to lower the wooden pallet. Until he’d come up with this rig, they’d been carrying the wood up the ladder. The man on the ground had sawed while another one had nailed.

For safety’s sake he banished all thoughts of Astrid from his mind while working. And since they worked until dark in the long evenings, the only thinking time he had was on the trips back and forth for supper and sleep. That’s when thoughts of Astrid took over. She’d been right when she’d said she probably wouldn’t have time to write much. He’d received a note from her a few days after she arrived in Chicago, and that was it.

The woman at the farmhouse clanged the iron triangle, signaling that dinner was ready. Gilbert Brunderson and Trygve slid down the ladder, their feet barely touching the treads.

“One more level, and we set the machinery,” Trygve said, wiping his forehead with a grimy handkerchief.

“I think we should bring Mr. Sam out with us to do that,” Gilbert said. “Four pairs of hands will come in right handy.”

Joshua nodded. He’d been thinking the same thing. The head on this windmill was heavier than the others due to the longer blades.

“My neighbor off to the south came by and admired the mill,” the farmer told them, his hands shoved in his overall pockets as he eyed the windmill.

Joshua nodded for him to continue. “Does he want me to come by and talk with him?”

“Wouldn’t hurt none. His well went dry last summer. Can’t get too deep hand digging.” He led them to the washbasin set up on the porch. When they’d finished cleaning up, the men headed indoors, where the wife had the food dished up.

“Have some more,” the missus said when the plates were nearing empty. “I got more on the stove.”

The men nodded, and the bowls and platters made it around the table again. Sometimes one ate more because the food was so good, but sometimes one did so to be polite. This place was not like the boardinghouse or the Bjorklunds’.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The men took turns saying the words before they headed back out. Stepping out onto the porch, they drew their hats tighter down on their heads and pulled leather gloves from their rear pockets.

“Lookin’ mighty fine,” the farmer said from behind them. “Matilda is making noises like now we can pipe water into the house too. Ain’t that the craziest thing?”

“They sell hand pumps for the house at the mercantile in Blessing. Running water would make her life a lot easier.”

“What would she do with all the extra time? Leastways she won’t have to crank it up out of the well no more.”

Joshua and Trygve swapped looks.
Why, she might have time to
cook better food,
Joshua thought but kept his comments from his face. One thing certain, when he had a wife, he planned to make sure she had house machinery like men had farm machinery. Or like the drill press back at the shop in Blessing that had an engine to run it.

That evening the crew left a bit early since they wanted to hoist the head first thing in the morning when they were all fresh and had another set of hands. He’d thought to ask the farmer if he wanted to help them but thought the better of it. From the looks of the farm and the house, the man lacked some in work habits.

“Pa would have something to say about that fellow.” Trygve slapped the reins, and the team picked up a trot.

“Your pa sets a mighty fine example,” Joshua said. “No places cleaner and prettier than the Knutsons’ and the Bjorklunds’.”

“Andrew’s too,” Trygve added. “Someday when I get married, I’ll do like he did. I think. But sometimes I dream of homesteading myself. Maybe head to western North Dakota somewhere. I’ve heard about the Badlands, and I’d like to see them.” He turned to Gilbert sitting in the wagon bed. “You ever thought of going west to homestead?”

Gilbert nodded. “Ja, I think on it.”

“Be smart like those first Bjorklund brothers were and make sure you have someone to start out with. From the stories you told me, the two working together made a mighty big lot of difference.” Joshua looked over at Trygve.

“Ja, you get Mor and Tante Ingeborg talking about the early days, and it’s hard to believe what they went through. Both their husbands dying like that. Mor said she wanted to die too, but Tante Ingeborg wouldn’t let her. You know what the winters can be like here.”

“That’s one of the reasons I don’t want to be a farmer, especially not here. But the grasshoppers took my father’s crop in Iowa last year, so there is always something, no matter where you settle.” Sometimes Joshua felt bad that he didn’t speak Norwegian. While Gilbert tried to follow their conversations, he most likely missed out on a lot.

“You know, I was thinking. We could set up the cook shack for a place to sleep when we get farther away from Blessing. We wouldn’t have to camp under the stars or drive so far back each day.” Trygve braced his elbows on his knees, the lines loose in his hands. “They’ll be using that for harvesting pretty soon.”

“True. Maybe it is time to build another one.”

Joshua looked over his shoulder to the young man riding beside him. “You have a good head on your shoulders. I’ll mention it to Hjelmer. Or you can.”

“Who’s going to help you after harvest starts? You know I’ll be going with the threshing crew.”

Joshua shrugged. “No idea. It all depends on if we have more to do.”

“Oh, Onkel Hjelmer will be bringing back lots of orders.”

After they started drilling this well, Hjelmer had left on horseback to call on farmers. He had pictures drawn of the new windmills, and a photographer had taken pictures too, so he could show the real thing in action with cattle drinking from a full watering tank.

“I hope you are right.”

“Mor says he has the Midas touch.”

“Oh.” He remembered hearing about King Midas in school but didn’t remember much. Joshua thought about asking, but he brushed it aside. “What else has he done?”

“He used to be a gambler and won all the time.”

“No one wins all the time.”

“Maybe not, but when he won, he won big. Tante Penny made him promise to not gamble anymore.”

“So he went into farming? Huh, that’s the biggest gamble of all, and most of the time you have no recourse.” His brother and the grasshoppers came to mind. The weather, the hoof and mouth that nearly wiped everyone out all over the West.