More Than a Dream (37 page)
December 27, 1895
Dear Thorliff,
Christmas without being at home seemed stilted, even though Father and Mother tried their best to make the holidays here in Chicago a celebration. I missed playing the piano for all of our friends, and though Cook sent nearly a trunk of good things, it certainly wasn’t the same. Is this part of growing up? Learning to make the best of holidays away from home? Now I know how you must have felt last year, and this year you didn’t even have our house to celebrate at. What did you do?
We have snow and that horrendous wind that tries to blow you over when you go out or at least freeze your blood in your veins. The adjoining passageway between the school and the hospital was finished just before this big storm hit.
I should have sent you a note with Mother and Father, but the hospital is full, and we are running our legs off. We need more nurses, let alone doctors and other staff. Dr. Morganstein says this is a chronic problem, so she is now thinking of starting a school for nurses like we have for doctors. She’s going to need another building soon at the rate she is dreaming up new ideas.
I like teaching. Are you surprised? Two of the students really keep me on my toes; they memorize so quickly while the others struggle along. You can hear them muttering
tarsal,
metatarsal
as they pass in the hallway. One of the more clever ones has come up with a way to memorize all the bones of the hand.
We sent the last of our burn victims home just before Christmas. The woman is so terribly disfigured that I am afraid children will run screaming when they see her. I wonder if someday there will be more we can do to help people like her.
I so enjoy your letters, and you are a dear to send your stories. I read them sometimes to patients in the wee hours of the morning when they cannot sleep. Your stories make me very popular.
I must get to bed, but I do love to spend this time with you. I picture you sitting at your desk or huddled under a quilt in your room, books spread around you while you cram in the final bit of knowledge that will give you an A on an exam. Thank you for being so much more than just an employee to my mother and father. They think the world of you.
From the cold and dreary land of Chicago, I remain,
Yours,
Elizabeth
January 5, 1896
Dear Thorliff,
I am sorry I have not written more often, but between school and chores I sometimes fall asleep at the table. I think of you writing after we all went to bed, and I do not know how you did it.
Everyone was here for Christmas as usual, and Tante Kaaren read your Christmas story aloud to all of us. Mor had tears in her eyes, and Pa had to blow his nose. He said he must be catching a cold, but he wasn’t. Metiz came too, but she would have stayed home if we didn’t go get her with the sleigh. Mor tried to talk her into moving into the soddy for the winter, but you know Metiz. She would have none of that.
One reason chores take up so much of my time is that Hamre left soon after harvest. He said he wanted to see the ocean again, so he headed west where there is a fishing fleet out of Seattle. As you know, he never has much liked the prairie. I would like to see the ocean too, but I think there is nothing more beautiful than our flat land. Not that I have a lot to compare it with, but as you know, we can see forever here. I climbed up on the barn roof to check some shingles, and I thought sure I’d be able to see the mountains. When I asked Pastor Solberg why not, he explained the curvature of the earth. You must be able to see a far distance from the mountains in Montana. Manda and Baptiste said there is nothing like it.
We go back to school in two days. I want to thank you for the book on farming. I’ve read a lot of it already.
I sure wish Toby Valders would behave himself so that I wouldn’t have to chop so much wood.
Your brother,
Andrew
PS: Mor has been sad for a long time. I think more letters from you would help cheer her up.
January 15, 1896
Dear Elizabeth,
We had a skating party last night at the pond on the hill. As you know, I don’t usually attend those things, but Benjamin coerced me into it. I think he needed a bit of moral support in his pursuit of Miss Anne Boranson. But he didn’t need my help at all. He asked her to skate with him, and they never skated with anyone else all night. I thought of asking her to skate with me just to rile him up, but I stayed the good friend and didn’t tease him.
Have you been reading the newspaper articles about the grave robbers? They sell the cadavers to medical schools and laboratories. Perhaps you should ask Dr. Morganstein where she purchased the cadavers you are studying. While your description of the nerves and muscles was interesting, I’m sure most people would rather not know quite so much about the human body. Since I grew up on a farm, I am not so squeamish.
Have you heard from Thornton? Reverend Johnson mentioned him in his sermon on Sunday, saying that he needed prayer for a health problem. You know me, I immediately wanted to know all the details.
Enclosed you will find my newest contribution to
Harper’s
Magazine
. I do hope they take it.
I need to get back to my books. How I dream of a piano concert by a certain pianist that I long to see.
Yours,
Thorliff
Blessing, North Dakota
February 1896
‘‘What is it, my Inge?’’ Haakan rolled on his side toward her.
Ingeborg stared toward the ceiling now hidden in the darkness. The wind and snow howling around the house almost drowned out the song of the wolves.
‘‘I just feel so sad, and the pit yawns ever before me. Life is so heavy that I just want to lie down and let it roll on by. Instead, I am being squashed more each day.’’ She clenched the flannel sheet in her hands, the quilts along with the featherbed keeping them warm in spite of the dropping temperatures.
‘‘I read my Bible, and all that I read sounds like God is scolding me, and He certainly has justification.’’
‘‘I don’t think He is scolding you. Like the part I read tonight at the supper table. He said, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ ’’
‘‘Ja, that is good.’’ Her sigh spoke more than words were able.
‘‘I just feel that perhaps God no longer wants me to take care of the sick and the birthings and such. So much death, Haakan. So many have died.’’
‘‘Ja, I know, but death is a part of life, and only God knows the hour or day. Those people wouldn’t have died did he not ordain so.’’ He took her hands in his and raised one to kiss the palm. ‘‘God has given you these hands, and he has used them to heal people, to comfort, and to bring forth new life. Whyever would He take away the gift He has given you?’’
‘‘Perhaps I misused it.’’
‘‘Ingeborg.’’ His tone chided her gently.
‘‘Or maybe I have grown proud.’’
Haakan moved closer and pulled her spoon fashion against his chest. ‘‘Lord God, free your Ingeborg from this weight of sadness and bring her back into your joy. Let her know how much the things she does please you.’’
She could hear his voice fading just before the amen.
‘‘Thank you.’’
His first snore, a little like a hiccup, made her want to turn and kiss him, but she didn’t want to wake him again.
Thank you,
Lord, for giving me this man. I will try harder tomorrow to spend
time praising you instead of fearing the pit. Thank you for my children,
and please keep Thorliff safe, and his Elizabeth
. She shivered at the sound of the wolf’s howl. Barney barked in the kitchen by the back door where he slept.
He must think the wolves are right
outside. Thank you, God, for this sturdy house that protects us from
the storms. And now, please calm the storm that rages inside me
. Like Haakan, she drifted off before the amen.
They woke in the morning to a stillness that screamed for attention after the rage of the storm. Haakan left her in bed and went to put wood in both stoves before returning to the warmth of the quilts and his sleepy wife’s arms.
‘‘Warm me up.’’ He shivered as he snuggled her close.
‘‘Did you hear the wolves last night?’’
‘‘Who didn’t?’’
‘‘One sounded like it was right outside the back door.’’
‘‘Hmm, they must be hungry to be so brave.’’
‘‘I think I better go check on Metiz this morning. Since the storm is past, I’ll just ski on over. I think being out in the sun, if it doesn’t cloud over again, will be good for me.’’
‘‘I wish she had come to the soddy.’’
‘‘I know. Me too. But we Norwegians aren’t the only ones who are stubborn.’’
‘‘Well, ja, and if I don’t get my stubborn body out of bed, the cows will think something has happened to the feed man.’’ He grabbed his wool pants and shirt, along with hand-knitted stockings, and charged out to dress by the now blazing fire. Ingeborg followed him, her quilted petticoats and long wool stockings over her arm. When dressed, she brushed and braided her hair and wrapped the braid around her head like a crown. She tied a clean apron around her waist and set to making the coffee. Pouring the beans into the coffee grinder, she inhaled the pungent fragrance of the dark beans. Nothing smelled as good on a cold winter morning, or any morning for that matter, as a steaming cup of rich, near-black coffee.
After adding flour and eggs and lard to the potato water yeast bubbling on the shelf behind the stove where it always stayed warm, she kneaded the bread, knowing that the more she beat her frustrations into the dough, the lighter and finer the bread would be. Bread needed lots of air worked into it to make it rise. Setting the crockery bowl back on the shelf, she poured herself a cup of the now ready coffee and inhaled the fragrance again.
Astrid wandered into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. ‘‘How long have Pa and Andrew been out at the barn?’’
Ingeborg glanced at the clock. ‘‘Better than an hour.’’
‘‘How come you let me sleep?’’ Astrid leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder and yawned again, causing Ingeborg to do the same.
‘‘Oh, I don’t know, but you better hurry now and get washed and dressed so you won’t be late for school.’’
‘‘You say that every morning.’’
‘‘Not in the summer.’’
Astrid left the room, a giggle drifting back over her shoulder.
‘‘Thank you, God, that I can at least make someone else laugh.’’ The cat went to the door and asked to go out. ‘‘And I can take care of those close to me. You are going to freeze your toes if you don’t come right back in.’’ The big orange-and-white cat slit his eyes at her and slipped through the door like a shadow.
She had the ham sliced and frying before Astrid returned. Like her mother, she was wearing long woolen stockings, quilted petticoats, and a woolen vest under her dress. She handed Ingeborg the hairbrush.
‘‘Can I have one braid today instead of two?’’
‘‘I guess, but it won’t stay as well. Why?’’
‘‘ ’Cause Toby tied the two together yesterday when he sat behind me. It hurt.’’