More Than a Dream (35 page)
Thorliff raised his hand. ‘‘I thought it interesting that it was only after Milton was forced to retire from political life and went blind that he wrote his greatest work. Why was that, do you suppose?’’ The discussion was off and running.
When they gathered in the dining room for dinner, Benjamin picked up his tray and joined Thorliff and some of the others at their usual table near the back wall. ‘‘I do hope Cook sent extra cookies today. Nothing beats her cookies, no matter what kind she blesses us with.’’
‘‘Benjamin, you ever thought of letting Thorliff eat his own cookies? It’s not like they are starving you here.’’
‘‘I have it on good report that you had seconds at dessert again last night. And after that we popped corn, and there were enough apples to take some upstairs with us.’’
The conversation flowed around Thorliff as he reread the article he had just completed for the
Manitou Messenger,
St. Olaf’s student newspaper. While he really didn’t have time to work on the paper, Mr. Ingermanson had convinced him that it would be to his benefit to take part. Between articles for the
Northfield News
and the
Manitou Messenger,
his classwork, and the novel he was already writing in snippets to send to Elizabeth, his hand felt permanently cramped. Let alone trying to live up to the promise he’d made to himself to write home once a week.
Blessing seemed as if it existed on another plane or another continent, not only distant in miles but in reality. No matter how many letters he read from folks there, he realized he no longer thought of that as home. Home as in where he’d been reared, yes, but not where he belonged now.
Benjamin bumped his arm. ‘‘Here she comes.’’
Thorliff looked up in time to see a young lady enter the dining room. A transfer student, Miss Anne Boranson had caught Benjamin’s eye from the first day, and now he declared himself madly in love with her even though they’d spoken to each other no more than two or three times.
‘‘So go ask if you can sit with her.’’ Thorliff nudged Benjamin with his elbow.
‘‘I’m better at adoring from afar.’’
‘‘You’re chicken, that’s what. Surely you could sit by her at one of the sing-alongs.’’ Thorliff finished his beef sandwich as he reread the last sentences he’d just written.
‘‘I know. Why don’t you go and invite her to join us over here?’’ one of the others asked.
‘‘She’s sitting down with her friends.’’
‘‘Like she does every day.’’ Benjamin sighed, and the others laughed.
‘‘Good grief.’’ Thorliff reached for an apple from the bowl on the table. ‘‘See you later. I’ve got more studying to do.’’
‘‘Hey, Bjorklund, are you going to take part in the debate? The new topic is Should Our Government Support Public Work Projects?’’
Thorliff stopped to answer the question.
‘‘I’d like to. What about you?’’
‘‘We could do the pro side this round. We made a good team last time.’’
‘‘Let me give it some thought. My schedule is pretty full right now.’’
‘‘When is it not?’’ The editor of the
Manitou Messenger
tipped his head back to see Thorliff better. ‘‘You finished with that article?’’
Thorliff handed the papers to him. ‘‘I’d thought to get another quote from Professor Ytterboe, but he’s out of town again, so that’s impossible.’’
‘‘Good, good. I want this first edition for this year to be exemplary. You have any other suggestions, you let me know.’’
‘‘I will. Excuse me, please.’’ Thorliff backed off as he spoke. How easy it would be to sit down and while away the remainder of the dinner hour like the others were doing, but he had type to set in the evening and other chores around the newspaper. Besides, he wanted to stop by and see Henry Stromme. He was no longer living there, because a new student had taken his place, but he missed the old man and his cackling laughter.
Reverend Mohn had said that morning in chapel that life was meant to be lived to the fullest in the service of God. Sometimes Thorliff wondered if all he did was in service to God. Like trying to live up to the Beatitudes. One could never do enough, let alone too much.
Leaves had donned their fall dancing gowns and crackled merrily beneath his boots on the way down the hill. At times like this he really missed Elizabeth and their walks to and from school together.
Perhaps today there would be a letter. He broke into a trot, inhaling the rich, fecund flavor of fall.
‘‘Thorliff,’’ Phillip said as soon as Thorliff entered the office, ‘‘you need to go over to Mrs. Kingsley’s house. She has a story she has written for us and was unable to bring it by. I promised her you’d be there as soon as you got down from the hill.’’
Thorliff groaned inside but struggled to keep his thoughts from his face. Mrs. Karlotta Kingsley could ruin all his vows of purity of mind faster than he could make them. And how could he confess this to his employer when Phillip had pretty much figured out that Thorliff and Elizabeth were thinking of each other as more than friends. At least he knew he was, and he was fairly certain she was too. At least he hoped so.
September 15, 1895
Dear big brother Thorliff,
I decided to write that to remind you who you are and that
we miss you every day. As you know, school started again, and
I think Toby Valders is only getting meaner and sneakier than
ever. Do you think some people are born mean and maybe they
can’t help it? I wonder because if I had to chop all that wood,
I would certainly change my ways.
Mor and I wanted to come visit you so bad, but with all the terrible things happening here, harvest was on us before we could take time to even breathe. But Pa says we had good harvests for a change, and while they had grasshoppers out towards Devil’s Lake, they never made it here.
Anji and Mr. Moen were married after all. Mrs. Valders said they were unseemly in not waiting for the year of mourning after Anji’s brother died, but Mor said, ‘‘Uff da, some people have no spirit of compassion.’’ Anyway, they are traveling in Norway, Anji and Mr. Moen, I mean, not Mrs. Valders, and I hope they are happy. Anji is now a mother, as he has two daughters who will come back to America with them.
Baptiste wrote a letter to Metiz. Can you believe it? Anyway, Mor read the letter to us, and the news is that Manda is in the family way. When they brought the horses from Montana two weeks ago, I could see she has gotten fat around the middle. I sure hope they bring the baby next year when they come. I’m big enough to care for it. I have grown two inches since last spring and Pa says I am growing like pigweed.
Thank you for sending us copies of your articles and stories. I read some of them at school. Pastor says I am a good reader, but I already knew that. I think sometimes that I would like to be a teacher when I grow up. I help with the little kids, and it is so exciting to see them learn to read and know that I had a part in that. I make them learn all the sounds of the letters and then show them how to turn the sounds into words. Some words are such wonderful fun like anthropomorphic and analgesic, though I don’t use those for the little kids. I try to do as you say and learn a new word every day. I try to work something like misanthropic into a sentence in everyday conversation. It’s a predicament all right. Isn’t that a good word? I like to say it over and over.
Mor is calling me to set the table, so I will write again sometime. Please think of coming home for Christmas. I want to make sure you are not a figment of my imagination. I read that in a book.
Love from your sister,
Astrid
October 12, 1895
Dear Thorliff,
I didn’t realize what a fine poet you are, but I shouldn’t be surprised, as you do everything well. At least in the writing department. Thank you for sending what you call your
little
drivels
to me.
I hadn’t been back two minutes when there was an emergency, and without even unpacking I changed into my scrub apron and assisted Dr. Fossden in the surgery. He has aged in the few weeks I have been gone. Perhaps it was going on all the time, but sometimes one needs distance to see what is right in front of one’s face. He is only supposed to be operating here on a part-time basis, but we seem to be busier than ever. Accidents, like time, wait for no man. I start teaching tomorrow. Today, or this evening rather, Dr. Morganstein had a reception in her quarters for all of the students. As each of us introduced ourselves and told about our medical schooling and experience up to now, I realize how indeed blessed I am. I must send Dr. Gaskin an unending stream of gratitude for all he has taught me and thank my parents again for sending me to college to learn all that I have.
Thorliff, my dear friend, I am so blessed. Sometimes it takes a tragedy, or in my case an almost tragedy, to make us realize all or even part of the innumerable blessings our Lord showers upon us.
One of the children who’d been here this summer came to see me and brought me a fistful of daisies he had picked in a vacant lot. I cannot begin to describe how I felt at seeing him walking with barely a limp. I helped operate on his leg, and it healed so straight and true. If you had seen the break, you would have thought him to be lame for life or that he would lose the leg altogether. I thank our God for privileges like that.
And I thank you for making my time at home such a joy to look back on, in spite of my abduction. But that too is giving blessings beyond measure. I will tell you more about that in another letter. I must get some sleep in preparation for the morrow.
Yours faithfully,
Elizabeth
October 22, 1895
Dear Elizabeth,
You have piqued my curiosity, that is for sure. What other good than what we have already discussed could come of your frightening experience? I know and believe that God’s promise of working everything for good for those who love him and are called according to his purpose is true now and forever, but other than increased faith and trust, what could be added? I know you are doing a superb job teaching the beginners. I shall never forget what you said of Dr. Morganstein’s principle for the school: ‘‘See one, do one, teach one.’’ That is an adage that applies to all of life. I am using it in training the young man your father has hired to help us here. Curtis Jessop has taken over my job of cleaning up after printing. He learns quickly and is willing. What more can you ask?