A Measure of Mercy (21 page)

When he saw Gus and Maydell two-step by, he almost chuckled, remembering a previous dance when she had sort of forced Gus into a marriage agreement. Last he’d heard, the wedding would be after harvest. Everything here revolved around the farming calendar. Tilling, planting, haying, harvesting . . . a fight all the time to keep the weeds down and praying for the right weather. Even if he didn’t want to farm, when one was working with farmers, the same seasons applied. He thought about Hjelmer’s house and how there would be so few to finish the interior when harvest took the bulk of the men away.

“Let’s take a break after this number, shall we?” Lars suggested a few tunes later. “I’m drier’n a water hole in August.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Lars raised his voice. “This is the last dance for a while, folks. Maybe the ladies would like to open the food table about now.”

“You could have given us a warning,” some female called back.

“Why, that would be too easy, now, wouldn’t it? All right, we will play one more number so you have time.” He glanced to his fellow musicians. “ ‘Little Brown Jug’?” At their nods, he tapped his foot four times, and away they went again.

Since the people let the musicians go through the line first, Joshua had a plateful of food in his hand when the elder Mrs. Valders stopped beside him.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” she said.

Surprised, he nodded. “Thank you. She would have enjoyed a party like this.”

“We are fortunate to have so many good musicians here in Blessing. Dr. Bjorklund is very talented on the piano too. I think she was relieved when Mr. Gould volunteered to play.”

“Oh, really?” The things one learned at a party.

“Well, I’d best see to making more punch. Hot night like this, everyone’s extra thirsty.”

“That’s for sure.” He raised his cup. “I really appreciate my share.” He took his plate over to where benches had been set up and sat down to eat.

Toby sat down beside him, his plate heaped. “You heard from Hjelmer?” He picked up a piece of fried chicken and took a bite. “Ah, Thelma over at the doctor’s sent this chicken.”

“How do you know that?”

“She makes the best fried chicken in town. Mrs. Sam from the boardinghouse comes a close second. Don’t know what they do different from the others, but they do. Mrs. Bjorklund makes the best bread. Just ask Thorliff.”

“Back to your question. Nope, I haven’t.”

“Figured you would by now. Penny said anything?”

“About what?”

“If he’s sold any more windmills. I figured you’re about done with the one south of here.”

“We are. Trygve goes out with the threshing crew Monday.”

“They’ll start with the Knutson place, then the Bjorklunds’ and the Baards’. I used to work that crew until Thorliff got so busy building. You need a job, we always have one for you.”

“Thank you. If he does come back with more orders, which I’m sure he will, I’m going to need some help myself. I’d like to start building a house too.”

“You better get on Thorliff’s list.” He nodded as Trygve sat down cross-legged in front of them. “What you doing hanging out with the old guys when all those cute girls are giggling for you?”

Trygve rolled his eyes. He looked up at Joshua. “You know we talked about building a sleeping wagon?” Joshua nodded. “Well, I talked to my pa about it, and he said he was sure Hjelmer would pay for it. We can build it in our machine shed after we return from threshing.”

“When is harvest done here?”

“We’re usually done by now, but with the cool and wet summer we had, we’re behind schedule. We do all the locals and then go west to thresh for others. We’ve been going to many of the same farms for years. Andrew stays home to take care of the livestock and chores, and Samuel would rather do that too. I like helping Pa with the big machinery. When that steam engine and the threshing machine chug down the road, people sit up and take notice.”

“What do you pull it with?”

“The steam engine has wheels. Between the two, it looks like some kind of monster coming down the road. We set up and farmers in the area bring their wagonloads of sheaves of wheat to be separated.”

“That’s the way my father does it. He says the machinery is just too expensive for most farmers to purchase.” But then his father thought everything was too expensive. He expected his sons to work for nothing and to be grateful for the privilege. Sometimes he still wondered why he had returned home when he left Blessing, but he knew. Fiona. Fickle Fiona. Now he wished her and her husband all happiness, but that had taken a long time. Seeing Astrid again had helped him forget Fiona. For a moment he wondered how Pa and the others were getting along without his mother there to feed and take care of them. Who was tending her garden and putting up the produce? His brother’s wife had enough to do with her own house and children.

He brought himself back to the conversation. Both Trygve and Toby were looking at him. He’d missed something all right. “Sorry, you made me think of my father’s farm. What did you say?”

“Just more about threshing. I take it you aren’t interested in going on the crew.”

“Nope. I’d rather put up windmills any day.”

Lars strolled over and stopped behind his son. “You about ready to start in again?”

Joshua nodded and finished the last of his potato salad. One thing for sure, the cooks around there were superb. He glanced over at the table of pies and cakes.

“They’ll set out the desserts at the next break. Grab yourself another cup of punch before they run out.”

They tuned up again and started the next set, this time a square dance with Haakan as the caller. The dancers wove the patterns at a pace that would make anyone puff. When they finished, everyone clapped and headed for the punch tub again.

“Hey, Joshua, I heard you singing on Sunday. You ever do any solos?” Lars asked.

Joshua shrugged. “Sang sometimes in church.”

“Well, how about that. You know ‘Shenandoah’?”

“Of course.”

“Can you play and sing both?”

Joshua shrugged again and nodded. Actually he enjoyed singing, but he wasn’t about to volunteer. Some practice time would be good, but he knew that song well.

“Hey, folks, we got a treat in store for you tonight. Mr. Landsverk here is going to sing for us.”

The crowd hushed and looked toward the musicians. They played a few bars as an introduction, and Joshua picked up with “Oh Shenandoah, I long to hear you. . . .” He picked his guitar instead of strumming, the notes rippling out like sunlight on river water. When he finished, a silence greeted him.

They didn’t like it. The thought died in birth as one person started to clap, and it became contagious. He looked over to see Ingeborg wiping tears and Mrs. Knutson doing the same. He guessed they liked it all right.

When they took their next break, Pastor Solberg came up to him. “I knew you had a good voice, son, but that tugged right on the heartstrings. We’d be honored to have you sing for church some Sunday, if you would like.”

“I’d like that.” And just maybe his mother would be able to hear him sing again. She was the one who gave him a love of music and started him playing the guitar.

“Thank you.”

Ingeborg handed him a plate with both chocolate cake and chocolate cream pie. “I saved some for you.”

“Thank you. My favorites.”

“I know. Perhaps when people get tired of dancing, we could all do some singing. Would you mind leading?”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

Later, as they sang, people picked up the harmonies, and when one song was finished, someone else would start up another. They went from “She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain” to “Bringing in the Sheaves,” from “Buffalo Gals” to finish with “Simple Gifts.” As the final note faded away, a silence full of peace picked them up and carried them home.

As one of the children said, “That felt just like church, Ma, don’t you think?”

“More like what heaven will sound like, I expect.”

Lars clapped a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Well, you can’t beat an evening like this anywhere, I don’t think. Thank you for taking part.”

“Thank you for asking me. I nearly forgot how much I love playing and singing.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that happening. Not now. See you in the morning.”

Joshua returned to the boardinghouse and sat down to write to Astrid. If she had been there to enjoy the evening, it would have been as close to perfect as he could dream.

And that’s just what he told her.

You haven’t been gone all that long, and all I know for certain is that we are all looking forward to you returning home to Blessing, but me most of all. I am beginning to see why you love Blessing so much. This place is truly blessed. That’s about all I can say about it. I hope that all is well with you, that you are learning all that you need and want. I know I don’t write very much, but I think of you often.

He wanted to write
I think of you all the time
, but that really wasn’t quite proper. He signed his name,
Yours most truly, Joshua Landsverk
. Climbing into bed, he threw even the sheet off, warm as the night was. He locked his hands behind his head and stared into the darkness, gratitude welling up so all he could say or think was “Thank you.”

If only his mother were still alive so he could write to her about the evening. Was life like that, always a sorrow to reduce a joy? Or did joy overpower the sorrow?

17

C
HICAGO
, I
LLINOIS

W
hen Astrid woke at a rap on the door, she thought she’d just fallen asleep. “Yes.”

“Time to get up.”

“Thank you.” She glanced across to the other bed, now empty. Talk about dead to the world. She must have been sleeping like Elyse had been when she came in. She dressed quickly and brushed out her hair while hurrying to the washroom. At least there was a sink available. When she’d washed and brushed her teeth, she braided her hair on the way back to her room and wrapped it in a figure eight at the base of her skull. At least that way she’d not have to fuss with it later in case she had to don a surgical cap again. “Got to” would be more appropriate than “had to.” Bless Dr. Whitaker for inviting her to assist.

She’d just sat down with her tray when one of the nurses called from the doorway. “Dr. Bjorklund.”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Whitaker asked me to find you. He wants you to meet him on the surgical floor in ten minutes.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there.” Astrid shoveled in her oatmeal, spread jam on her bread, and was thankful the coffee wasn’t so hot that she couldn’t down it without getting burned. Bread in one hand, she set her tray on the counter and headed out the door. Good thing she’d grabbed her stethoscope on her way out of her room, along with the pencil and small pad of paper she’d stuck in her pocket.

“Good morning,” Dr. Whitaker greeted her. “You will be doing rounds with me today. Dr. Franck has been so informed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Hers was not to question why, she reminded herself as she nodded.

“We’ll start with our appendectomy of yesterday. Did you check on her last evening?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. While that wasn’t within your responsibilities, I’m pleased that you took the initiative and showed such concern. How was she faring?”

“She was groggy and complaining of pain, but that would be normal with that type of surgery. I checked her chart, and saw a new prescription for pain had been ordered. I waited while the nurse gave it to her, and then she went back to sleep. There was no sign of elevated temperature, and her pulse rate was strong although a bit fast.”

“And you notated your observations on the chart?” He picked up the chart as he asked.

“No, sir. I was not assigned to do that.”
And I’ve heard stories of
how some physicians resent another doctor treating their patient.
“Besides, you had already written the same findings half an hour earlier.”

A smile tickled the lines radiating from the edges of his eyes. “When you check on her through the day, feel free to write your observations on the chart. If you are going to be assisting me, I want you to be involved in all aspects of caring for my patients.”

Had she heard right? Assisting Dr. Whitaker. Elizabeth’s other hero. And according to her, the best surgeon in the world. “Ah, well, thank you, sir. I mean . . .”
Stop! You sound like a ninny.
She huffed out a breath.
Please, Lord, don’t let me make any more stupid mistakes.

After they had seen the rest of his patients, he motioned her into the office behind the nurses’ station and sat down. “I have a couple of questions for you. Please, be seated.”

She sat on the edge of the chair. Now what was happening?

“I’ve read all your essays and exams prior to coming here and your list of patients cared for in Blessing. I was surprised that you didn’t score higher on the exams administered here. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Astrid swallowed. How to answer? She sucked in a deep breath and clamped her fingers together. “I knew the material, but I just couldn’t pull out the answers to write them down at the time.”