Sophie's Dilemma
Sophie's
Dilemma
Books by Lauraine Snelling
A
S
ECRET
R
EFUGE
Daughter of Twin Oaks Sisters of the Confederacy
The Long Way Home
D
AKOTAH
T
REASURES
Ruby
Opal
Pearl
Amethyst
D
AUGHTERS OF
B
LESSING
A Promise for Ellie
Sophie’s Dilemma
A Touch of Grace
R
ED
R
IVER OF THE
N
ORTH
An Untamed Land
The Reapers’ Song
A New Day Rising
Tender Mercies
A Land to Call Home
Blessing in Disguise
R
ETURN TO
R
ED RIVER
A Dream to Follow Believing the Dream
More Than a Dream
LAURAINE
SENELLING
Sophie's
Dilemma
Sophie’s Dilemma
Copyright © 2007
Lauraine Snelling
Cover design by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota
Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Snelling, Lauraine.
Sophie’s dilemma / Lauraine Snelling.
p. cm. — (Daughters of Blessing ; 2)
ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-2810-0 (pbk.)
ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0399-2 (large-print pbk.)
1. Norwegian Americans—Fiction. 2. Family—Fiction. 3. Frontier and pioneer life— Fiction. 4. North Dakota—Fiction. I. Title. II. Series: Snelling, Lauraine. Daughters of Blessing ; 2.
PS3569.39S67 2007
813'.54—dc22
2007011984
DEDICATION
T
O THE MEMBERS of the Ox Cart Trails Historical Society in Drayton, North Dakota, who are spearheading the drive to bring Blessing and Drayton together—my thanks and excitement. Who knows where this wagon is going, but we’re all along for the ride.
Contents
LAURAINE SNELLING is the award-winning author of over fifty books, fiction and nonfiction, for adults and young adults. Besides writing books and articles, she teaches at writers’ conferences across the country. She and her husband, Wayne, have two grown sons, a basset named Chewy, and a cockatiel watch bird named Bidley. They make their home in California.
Bjorklund Family Tree
Early September 1901
T
HE SAME. Everything was always the same.
Sophie Knutson glared at the face in the mirror. Her face, her hair, THE her home, Blessing, and now that school had started, it was one more same old thing. The final same old? She’d not heard from Hamre in over a month. Not that it mattered, of course. She pinned her hair in a swirl on top of her head, but when she moved, it slipped and fell about her shoulders. Slamming her comb down on the dressing table, she leaped up and returned to her pacing.
‘‘I hate school!’’
Grace looked up at her sister stomping from one side to the other of the bedroom they’d shared all their lives, just as they’d shared their mother’s womb seventeen years ago. Grace spoke slowly, as if choosing her thoughts with great care. She kept her fingers in her lap, fingers that spoke far more swiftly than the tongue she’d trained with great difficulty to form the words she could not hear. ‘‘Sophie, look at me. What did you say?’’
‘‘I said I hate school.’’
‘‘I know. But this will be our last year, and you promised to finish.’’ Grace picked up the hairbrush lying in her lap.
Sophie clamped her fists on hips clothed by a white lawn chemise, trimmed in lace, all sewn with love by Grace, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed. As usual, Sophie had started something and never gotten around to finishing it. Months ago she’d cut out the lawn pieces, and when Grace tired of looking at them, she finished the garment for her sister.
‘‘I wish . . . I wish I . . .’’ Sophie’s eyes grew dreamy, looking into some faraway place. ‘‘School is so boring.’’ She plopped down on the bed, facing Grace so they wouldn’t have to sign. Grace had been born deaf but was liberated from her silent world when Kaaren, their mother, learned sign language and taught the skill to all of them, which led to starting the school she now ran for the training of deaf people.
‘‘What do you wish?’’ Grace asked.
Sophie knew her sister already knew the answer, since it had been the same since their childhood. Nevertheless, Grace indulged her.
‘‘I want to go places, see new things, meet new people.’’ Sophie flung her arms dramatically wide. ‘‘There’s a whole world out there, and we are stuck here in Blessing.’’
‘‘Not forever.’’
‘‘I know, but the
ever
seems so far away!’’ She flopped back on the pillows.
I don’t want to go to school. That’s all there is to it
.
‘‘What would you do if you didn’t go to school?’’ Ever practical, Grace unplaited her daytime braids with graceful fingers.
‘‘I could help Bestemor at the boardinghouse or work for Penny in the store, since Rebecca will be back in school. I could even help Dr.
Elizabeth in the surgery.’’
Maybe I could find work in Grand Forks or
Grafton. Grafton—Ellie’s family lives there. Surely Goodie could find me
something to do
.
‘‘But you don’t like blood.’’
‘‘Better than school.’’ Sophie ran her fingers into her dark hair and pulled it straight up. ‘‘Maybe I should cut my hair into a fringe.’’
‘‘Now that would be an adventure.’’
‘‘I saw it in a magazine. It’s the latest rage. If I get the scissors, will you help me?’’
‘‘But your hair waves back so beautifully. Not like mine.’’ Grace pulled a hank of what she called mouse brown hair over her shoulder and waved it at her sister. She’d gone back to braiding it to keep it out of her way.
‘‘Be right back.’’ Sophie signed with flying fingers as she leaped off the bed. Racing down the stairs, she snatched the scissors out of the sewing room and raced back up. Sophie never walked if she could dance or run. She paused in the doorway. Grace lived up to her name. Right now she sat on the bed with her arms raised, braiding her thick hair for the night. The light from the kerosene lamp outlined her in gilt.
If I leave, or rather,
when
I leave, what about Grace? How will I live
without her? Yet I know she won’t want to go along
. Grace loved school, loved being at home, loved helping their mother with the deaf school. Her patience with the new students was never ending, forming their fingers into the signs that would free them from their silent prison. After all, she had once been where they were. She understood.
Sophie crossed to stand in front of the mirror. Did she dare cut her hair? Just a few strands right in front. She tried folding her hair to hang short in front on her forehead to give her an idea what it would look like. She turned without thinking so that Grace could read her lips.
‘‘Would you help me please?’’
‘‘Hadn’t you better think on it more?’’
‘‘No. At least I will look a little different. Hold the hair in back so I can drop just the ends over my forehead.’’
Grace did as she asked and looked over her sister’s shoulder to stare into the mirror. Their eyes met, Sophie’s dancing with the thought of such daring, Grace’s caught in a question mark.
‘‘I’m going to do it.’’ Sophie handed Grace the scissors. ‘‘I’ll hold the comb; you cut.’’
‘‘No. If you want them short, you cut.’’
‘‘I know. You cut mine, and I’ll cut yours.’’ Sophie whirled and, with the comb, tugged a few strands of Grace’s hair loose from the night braid. While the two girls looked much alike in stature, Sophie had a wider forehead, an upturned nose, and darker eyes to match her hair. Grace’s face was more oval, with a straight nose and dreamy gray eyes with thick lashes. While Grace called her hair mousy, Sophie referred to it as tawny, shot with gold. Together they decided to call Sophie’s hair nutmeg with cinnamon trails. They’d been on a spice-searching mission that day, with Sophie dreaming of the lands that grew the spices they used to flavor food. Pepper had been too dark, cinnamon too red, allspice too strong, and nutmeg just right.
Grace hefted the scissors, opened the blades wide, slid one edge along her sister’s forehead, and pulled away. ‘‘I can’t do this.’’
‘‘Of course you can. Just cut right above my eyebrows. I read that was best.’’
‘‘But what if I slip and cut you?’’
‘‘You won’t.’’ Sophie combed the long strands all the way out and started again at her scalp, stopping at eye level. ‘‘There, now cut.’’ She adopted a frown of command on her face, knowing her sister well enough to understand she would dither and back out unless she took a firm stand.