A New Day Rising (7 page)

Both of them held the candy sticks in their mouths, grinning around them.

"It looks to me like you have won their hearts already." Ingeborg grabbed the baby's waving hand before the candy could land in her hair. "Mange takk. Not many would think of bringing the children a treat like that."

He stared down into gray eyes with a gaze so direct he felt she could see right through him. A straw hat hung on ribbons down her back, leaving the coronet of golden braids as a burnished crown. A few freckles already dotted her nose, mute testimony to her love of the sun, and the strong chin spoke of determination unfettered. When she smiled, her whole face glowed, lighting her eyes and crinkling the edges. He saw no shy miss here, but a woman of strength and courage. And when she smiled, he could do no less in return.

"Come, we will have dinner soon." She started toward the house. "I was washing the lamps outside since the sun begged me to." She pointed at a bench that held a pan of soapy water and several glass lamps.

Haakan met her grin with one of his own. "Begged you to? I like that. I wouldn't want to stay inside today either. Do you think spring is really here, or will we get another blanket of snow?"

"I don't know. I have learned to just appreciate each day as it comes, and after a long winter like we-I've had, I don't want to waste a moment of the sun's warmth."

She skirted the mud patches, kicking up snow with the toe of her boot as if she could barely keep from dancing. She felt like twirling, like taking TEorliff by the hands and whirling him around, then doing the same with Andrew. To think God had sent them a gift like this visitor on such a splendid day.

Those eyes he had, eyes she hadn't seen in such a handsome face since they buried Carl. While Thorliff, too, had the Bjorklund eyes, there was something to be said for such eyes in a tall, broad-shouldered man. She'd heard of measuring a man's breadth by ax handles, but never had the picture been so real. The ax looked to be a continuation of his arm, the way he handled it. The cleft in his chin made his strong jaw even more manly.

She had so many questions to ask, but since Kaaren would want to know the same answers, she would wait until after dinner. The waiting would not be easy, though.

She felt a giggle rising in her throat. What if she'd been wearing britches? He most likely would have taken one look and run clear back to the north woods. She jiggled Andrew on her hip, keeping one hand ready to protect her hair.

"Velkommen to our house," Ingeborg said as she stepped into the dimness of the Soddy. She paused a moment to let her eyes adjust. Thank the good Lord I did the dishes and straightened up before I went outside. On the way to the table, she pulled the coffeepot closer to the heat, then settled Andrew in a chair with a box on it. Taking the dish towel draped over the back of the chair, she smoothed it around his tummy and tied a knot behind the chair so he wouldn't fall off. "Have a seat," she said, motioning to Haakan with a sweep of her hand.

Haakan followed a pace behind so he could watch her. While she looked every inch a woman; from the crown on her head to the black wool skirt damp at the hemline from melting snow, he had the feeling it would take little encouragement for her to join the boys in a game of tag or a footrace. She didn't act like any widows he knew.

Once seated at the square table, with benches on two sides and chairs with hand-turned spindles at the others, he could tell by the delicious smells rising from the oven and the kettle she stirred on the stove that she was no ordinary cook.

His stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Ingeborg poured the now hot brew and set a cup of it on the table in front of him.

"Mange takk." He watched her smooth grace as she turned the loaf pans out on a towel spread on the counter of a cabinet of sorts that was set against the sod wall by the stove. Shelves beneath and above gave her a workplace and storage for kitchen goods.

"That bread smells like a piece of home." He took a sip of the scalding brew and looked around the sod house. A trunk decorated in the Valdrez style of rosemaling sat in a place of honor under the one window. Beautifully carved shelves lined both sides of the deep enclosure. Two rope beds were attached to the rear wall, sharing a post in the center. Colorful quilts and several elk hides covered the mattresses. An oak rocker, turned spindles for the back and topped with a carved header, showed the pride of the maker's workmanship. Curved arms with a roll at the end told of the hours spent in making the chair a thing of beauty, not only a necessary furnishing. A picture flashed through his mind of the woman, so busy now with setting out the food, sitting in that rocker with a babe to her breast. He felt a flush start down at the base of his neck.

He forced his gaze to the sacks hanging from the rafters, the few remaining bundles of dried herbs, and the lengths of wood stored there to dry and season. Obviously Roald had held the same love of wood and creating beautiful and useful things from it as did Haakan himself. Shame there weren't more windows so the dark walls didn't crowd in on one. He shook his head. What must it have been like to be cooped up in here with a young boy, a baby, and the screeching wind day after day? How did she get out to care for the livestock in the winter months?

The question burst forth in spite of his personal admonitions not to be inquisitive. "How did you manage through the blizzards?"

Ingeborg turned from the stove where she'd been adding more wood to the firebox. "You mean with the cows and sheep?"

"Ja, and the boys. By yourself?"

Ingeborg wiped her hands on the underside of her apron. "We strung a rope from the house to the barn so we could follow it when the snow was so bad I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. You learn to do that early on, or you never make it through the winter. We melted snow for the animals to drink when they could not get out to the trough. It was much easier this year since we had the well. We used to take the animals down to drink in the river where we kept a hole chopped out for them." She handed Thorliff the plate of sliced bread to place on the table. "One good thing about the snow, we never ran out of water, though keeping enough melted was a fulltime job. Thorliff has done the work of a man since his father died. I couldn't have managed without him." She patted the boy on the shoulder. "Thanks to the good Lord, we made it."

Haakan shook his head in amazement. Privately he doubted the good Lord had as much to do with it as did her sheer strength of will and Norwegian stubbornness. But then, he'd never been one to trouble the Lord with the events in his life. He'd decided early on that he'd rather take care of things himself than try to depend on one he couldn't see and who caused such pious and sober faces of a Sunday morn. Contrary to the pastor's and his mother's preaching those years ago, he'd always felt the bird choirs and the wind an them in the trees a better way to worship if there really was a God like they'd insisted.

When she had all the food on the table, Ingeborg asked Thorliff to lead grace. Haakan joined in the old words he'd learned at his mother's knee. "Ejesu naven, gor vi til brod...... It had been a long time since he'd heard the verse. He knew if he'd taken time to say grace at the trestle tables in the cookshack at the logging camppacked shoulder to shoulder they'd been-he'd have missed out on the bowls and platters of food being passed down the line. Too, he'd have been in for a healthy dose of ribbing. Haakan had earned his reputation for strength and fairness the hard way-by his hands.

They were halfway through the meal when he remembered. "Oh, I have something for you." He pushed his chair back and retrieved his pack from by the door where he'd set it when he came in. Along with the packet of sugar and coffee, he held out the letter the man at The Mercantile had sent with him. "I'm sorry. I forgot to give you this sooner."

Ingeborg clasped the letter to her bosom. "From home! A letter from home!" She raised shining eyes to thank him. "What a treat you have brought us. We'll all have to take this over to Tante Kaaren's to read after dinner." She laid the precious envelope down beside her plate and fingered the tied brown packet. "And what is this?"

"Open it, Mor." Thorliff leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"I wanted to bring you a gift but didn't know you, so this was all I could think of." Haakan took his place again and raised the cup to drink.

Ingeborg unwrapped her package. "Not more peppermint sticks, I take it?"

"No." He looked at Thorliff. "Sorry."

Ingeborg sniffed. "Coffee." She opened the packet and brought the bag up to her nose. "It smells heavenly. I've been hoarding the few beans left, now we will have plenty."

"Mor, what is in the other pack?" Thorliff asked, his eyes on the brown wrapped parcel.

"I don't know. Do you want to open it?"

"Can I?" He looked from Mor to the visitor. Haakan nodded and Ingeborg beckoned for Thorliff to come stand beside her.

"Be careful," Haakan cautioned.

Thorliff caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he cautiously pulled each fold of the parcel open. When the white granules lay before him, he raised questioning eyes to the man across the table.

"Wet your finger and dip a taste."

The boy did as told. "Sugar! Real, white sugar." He grinned up at his mother. "You do it." She tasted the treat and rolled her eyes in delight.

"Ah, sugar and coffee. And we were all out of honey, too. You couldn't have thought of anything better, Mr. Bjorklund. Out here we never take coffee or sugar for granted."

Or anything else, Haakan felt like adding.

Andrew banged his spoon on the table. "Me, me." Ingeborg dipped her finger in the treat again and put the tip of it in the baby's mouth. Andrew grabbed her hand and sucked again on her finger when she tried to withdraw it.

"That is one smart little fellow. He knows a good thing when he gets it."

"And he don't let go." Thorliff sneaked another quick taste and grinned at his mother when she frowned the teeniest bit and shook her head.

"We will put this away for a very special treat." She rewrapped the packet. "What do you tell Mr. Bjorklund?"

"Mange takk," Thorliff said, flashing a grin at the same time.

"1 believe since we are related by marriage, no matter how distant, you could call me Haakan." He looked across the table at her, willing her to agree. Why did it make any difference to him what she called him? After all, he would only be here until fall, and then he'd return to the north woods. He ignored the questioning of his mind and waited for her response.

Ingeborg nodded. "All right. And I am Ingeborg. Soon you will meet Kaaren-she was Carl's wife-and her new husband, Lars Knutson. He ran the steam threshing machine and the crew that came through here in the fall." She looked down at the packet in front of her. "Kaaren's two little girls died in the same flu that took Carl."

"And Roald?" He called himself all sorts of names for asking.

"Inadvertently. After Carl died and the blizzard let up, he went to check on some of our neighbors. The northern blizzard came back, and we think he was stranded in it and died. He might have fallen prey to the flu ..." Her voice trailed off. She sighed, a sound that tore at his heart. "We'll never know for sure what happened, just that he never came back."

Haakan caught himself before asking the question that burned in his mind. You mean to say he left you and your children alone? To fend for yourselves in the storm? "I'm so sorry. You needn't talk about it if-"

"No, I'm finding it easier now. Talking about it seems to help, somewhat." She cut a piece of meat for Andrew and fed him a bite. "So, how was your journey from the logging camp? Did you walk all the way?"

"Ja. And while I saw rich and beautiful country, the next time I would like to take a train." Haakan entertained them for the rest of the meal with tales of his travels and life in the logging camp. But when they began talking of relatives, Thorliff lost interest.

"Mor, can I go outside?" Shifting restlessly on his seat, Thorliff leaped in when there was a pause.

"Ja, that you can." Ingeborg looked up from moving her fork around. She looked over to Andrew to find him with his cheek on the table, sound asleep. "Ah, what have I been thinking? You go draw water for the sheep, and after Andrew wakes from his nap, we will go to Tante Kaaren's."