Streams of Mercy (11 page)

“Uff da,” she said as she came through the kitchen door. “That barn sure does need spring too. I think you notice the smell more when the cows aren’t in there.”

“They’d better enjoy the reprieve. I have a feeling another storm is on the way.”

“There are no black clouds in the north or west.” Ingeborg hung up her shawl and stopped at the kitchen sink to wash the dust off the bells. “The bread perfume met me halfway up from the barn. The men are right when they say bread calls them.” She glanced over at the loaves of bread lying on their sides, covered by a clean dish towel.

“We need to churn tomorrow—we’re almost out of butter.” Freda stirred the chicken soup and moved it back to the coolest corner of the stove. “The kids should be home any time now. I’ll go warn them to be quiet as soon as Patches announces them.”

The words were no more out of her mouth than Patches barked his welcome-home bark as he charged down the lane.

“I warned Clara that Manny is tall but is still only a boy, not a man to be feared.”

“You better not tell Manny you said that. He is convinced he is a man by now.” Freda hustled out the front door to shush the two climbing out of the bus wagon driven by Samuel. The wagon looked like a large outhouse on wheels, or in this case, on iron-rimmed sledges, four runners in place of four wheels. It slid over the mud almost as easily as over snow. The horses’ hooves were not as fortunate.

Ingeborg had explained to Emmy and Manny that a new girl—she was far too young to call a woman—would be coming to live with them, that she couldn’t speak, and that she was terrified of men. Grateful that Inga had not been there to grill her on all the whys and what fors, she set the cookie jar on the table and checked the teakettle to see how close it was to steaming.

She had to give it to Freda. The children came inside more quietly than usual.

“She is here?” Manny did manage to whisper as the two fol
lowed Freda into the kitchen. They set their lunch pails on the counter by the sink and hung up their coats and hats. “Can I go upstairs?”

“She’s exhausted, so she should sleep hard for a while. Just be as quiet as you can.”

“She can’t be ’fraid of me.” He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

Emmy jabbed her elbow at his ribs. “Be nice.”

“I am being nice.” He snagged a cookie from the jar on the table and managed to get up the stairs without a sound.

“No wonder he’s such a good hunter. He even missed the creaky stairs.” In the last year, Freda had finally come to accept Manny and appreciate him for who he was now, not who he had been when he first arrived with his bank-robbing brothers. The scum left him behind with a badly broken leg. They didn’t get far before they were caught, but Manny was in the hospital in surgery by that time. While Manny still limped because one leg was shorter than the other, he could bring in game when they needed meat. Emmy wore a deerskin coat with the hair side in, one that would be passed down when she outgrew it, not worn out. Manny had bagged the deer.

“Is she better?” Emmy asked, motioning to the parlor.

“She’s terribly weak, but we got her in the house and to bed.”

“And she doesn’t talk at all? Not even little words?”

“That’s right.”

“Not like she can’t hear? You know, not deaf?”

“Ja.”

“Can she sign?” Emmy signed the words as she spoke them. Like all the other children, Emmy had learned sign language in school so that everyone could communicate with the students at Kaaren’s school for the deaf.

“I don’t think so.” Ingeborg shook her head. “She doesn’t.”

“We’ll teach her!”

“She only understands Norwegian.”

“I speak some.”

“I know.”
Mostly the phrase
uff da
, but you are learning well, little one.
Ingeborg studied Emmy, who stared back at her, dark eyes lacking their normal sparkle, concern visible instead. Emmy took other people’s pain very seriously, seeking ways to help with wisdom beyond her years. “She will do well here.” Ingeborg cupped the girl’s cheek in her hands. “Oh, my child, I love you so.”

Emmy slipped both arms around her waist and laid her check against Ingeborg’s chest. They held each other close for comfort time, then Emmy leaned back to see her grandmother’s face. “We’ll make her good again.”

“Ja, we will.” Wiping the ever-near tears from her cheeks, Ingeborg nodded. “We will love her well.”

“Why doesn’t she talk?”

“I don’t know. It could be she was born that way, or she got sick and it took her voice, or—or sometimes when something terrible happens, people lose the ability to speak. Perhaps one day, when she learns to sign, she’ll be able to tell us, or we may never know. But God will give her new life here, with us.”

Manny returned to the kitchen as silently as he’d left. “She doesn’t look very old.”

“I don’t think she is, maybe seventeen or eighteen I’d guess, or perhaps even younger.” And she’s going to have a baby. We will have another baby in this house.
Dare I think, Lord, of this little one as a great-grandchild?
She smiled to herself. Grandchildren, great-grandchildren. God certainly was answering her prayers in strange and wonderful ways. Through the years she had often questioned Him about not giving her and Haakan more children. Thorliff was the son of Roald and his first wife,
but Haakan had mostly raised him. Andrew was born to Ingeborg and Roald, and Astrid was the only child she and Haakan had had together. For a long time she did not understand why, until she learned that men could become impotent after suffering with mumps. She still remembered how sick Haakan had been and how his face looked more like a pumpkin than her dear husband, due to the swelling.

“Grandma.” Emmy returned from changing her clothes. “I’ll go gather the eggs and feed the chickens. Are you going to take eggs in to Garrisons’? We have plenty.”

“Good idea. Please fix a basket. We’ll have extra butter to take too. I’ll take them to town in the morning.”

As the two went out the door, Manny called back, “I’ll be down cleaning the barn.”

Freda shook her head. “Never thought I’d hear that boy volunteering to clean the barn or do any other farm work.”

“I know. Haakan would be so proud of him.” Ingeborg sniffed. “I sure hope those in heaven can see what is going on here on earth. In this case, I’m sure he is bragging up a storm.”

Patches’ barking alerted them that someone was coming up the lane. When the bark changed to a welcome, they knew it was family. Thorliff tied up his horse at the fence and, after petting the dog, mounted the stairs to the back porch. When he stepped into the kitchen, he smiled at his mother. “I knew you had baked bread today. Almost called to make sure but brought out your mail and Tante Kaaren’s. Do you need anything to go to town?”

“Do you have time for coffee?” Freda pulled the pot forward to heat.

“I’ll stop on my way back from Kaaren’s. Bread and cheese too?”

Ingeborg and Freda glanced at each other and shook their heads as the door closed behind him. “Some things never change.”

“That man can smell fresh bread clear from town.” Freda pulled the knife from the drawer and started slicing the bread.

Ingeborg picked up the mail that Thorliff had laid on the table. “We finally have a letter from Norway.” She slit open the envelope and read through it quickly, then smiled at Freda. “Three people would like to come—two men and a woman. No relatives, but I know their families.”

“It took them long enough to decide.”

Ingeborg read her the letter. “Do you know those families?”

“Ja. They’re good workers. The family owned a store north of Valdrez. The two boys worked for my onkel sometimes on the fishing boat. I’m surprised they want to come here to farm.”

“Boats.” Ingeborg shook her head while she folded the letter to put back in the envelope. “Sophie and her first husband ran off to Seattle. He drowned when a fishing boat went down. I’ve never had a desire to get back on a boat after we came over those long years ago. That was a terribly hard voyage. I’ll give this to Thorliff.” She slit open another envelope. “Well, look at this.” She sat down at the table. “From Augusta, Roald’s oldest sister, who is in South Dakota.”

Dear Ingeborg,

I must apologize for the long times between my letters. I promised myself I would not wait to write until we had bad news to tell. I so often think of you, burying two husbands. I don’t know what I would do without Kane. I see that he is slowing down some, but I would not dare to mention it. He was thrown by one of the younger horses in the fall, and getting back in the saddle took some time. We are still raising beef, along with hay and some grains, mostly for cattle feed. The boys, Thomas and Stephen, are taking over more of the work now that they are growing, and Frank, a nephew of Kane’s who loves ranching too, came to live with us last year. Katy and Lissa are such a help in the house now, although Katy would prefer working with the horses. Lissa is only nine, but already she wants to teach school. It is hard to believe our children have grown up so quickly.

We are looking forward to spring. The winter has been hard, with a lot of sickness going around. Am I getting old that I am more aware of that? Our pastor died of pneumonia this winter, and we have yet to find a new one. We are learning that not too many want to come out here on the northern plains and shepherd three small churches.

I am still hoping that we can come to visit you one of these days, since I never made it to Blessing. God most certainly does work in strange ways, His wonders to perform. This winter I slipped on the ice and had to stay off my foot for several weeks, so that gave me more time to think on the years gone by.

I pray all is well with you and yours, and I hope you do not copy me and write so seldom.

From a distant
family member,
Augusta Bjorklund Moyer

She handed the letters to Thorliff when he came in. “You can read these at home if you’d like. You still have time for coffee, right?”

“Ja, I will take time. The Norway letter—someone is coming?”

Ingeborg nodded, cocked her head while she listened, and headed for the parlor. Sure enough, Clara was awake and shaking hard enough to make the cot rattle. “Shh, all is well. Thorliff, my
son, brought the mail and is having coffee.” While she spoke, Ingeborg leaned over to take her patient’s hands in hers. “Settle down. You are safe here, I promise. You need not be afraid. I am going to bring you some bread and cheese. I think you can eat that without needing to sit up.” She felt like she was calming one of the animals that could not talk back. But the fear that slowly leaked out of Clara’s eyes near to broke her heart. How horrible to be so terrified. “I’ll be right back. Soon you’ll be strong enough to join us at the table and enjoy a real meal for a change.” She gently stroked Clara’s hair back from her face. “You are safe here, Clara. Always.”

C
HAPTER 9

Y
e’re an excellent teacher. Have ye considered going to school and becoming a certified teacher?” Thomas Devlin smiled at Anji.

“Thank you. But how would I leave the children behind and go to college?”

“Ah, true. But perhaps there be other ways. Mayhap an examination ye might take, a proficiency test. That used to be the way it was done.”

Anji studied the man leaning against the doorjamb of her classroom. The final bell had dismissed the students, but she had decided to spend some time correcting papers. She had required her students to write a few paragraphs about their families in Norwegian. With their limited vocabulary, they had struggled. Some had dropped in an English word when they were stumped, others had left a blank space.

“Besides, I do not really want to teach full time. I need to take care of my little ones.” By
little ones
, she meant Rebecca’s as well as her own. Anji made herself look back down at her papers. Thomas Devlin was mighty easy to look at. And to talk with. Laugh with. She’d come to look forward to their walks back to
the house she shared with her sister and family. Soon Rebecca would be opening the Blessing Soda Shoppe for the season, and Anji knew she’d be needed to help there too.

“Will ye be ready to leave soon?”

“Ja, I am ready any time.” She started to gather her papers.

Reverend Solberg appeared at the door. “Thomas, could I talk with you before you go?”

“Of course.” Devlin smiled at her. “Be right back.” The man had a devastating smile.

“I’ll continue with what I am doing, then.” She listened to their shoes tap as they went down the hall to the principal’s office. The high school was not connected to the grade school, but the area separating them became a mud wallow in the spring. Right now snow was still banked in the corners with mud in the middle. Four classrooms, a library that had only a few books and some storage, and the principal’s office made up the high school. Returning to her papers, Anji caught herself shaking her head at times. Her students spoke better Norwegian than they wrote. She’d just finished, stacked the papers, and put them in the desk drawer to hand back the next day when Devlin stopped at the door again.

Anji gathered her bag, and by the time she walked to the coat pegs by the door, he was holding her coat for her. He rested his hands on her shoulders for a fraction of a minute, but still, the heat of his hands warmed her shoulders. Being treated with such care was easy to get used to. Those little gallantries were some of the many things she’d been missing since Ivar died. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder with a smile. Looking up into his twinkling blue eyes made her catch her breath.
Stop this
, she ordered herself as they made their way to the front door.
Thomas Devlin is a friend, a delightful friend, but that is all. Besides, you
know he’s unavailable
. Since when had her mind gone veering off in a romantic direction? It had not been
two years yet since Ivar had died. So technically she was still in mourning, even though she had put off her widow’s weeds before she arrived back in North Dakota. Had she remained in Norway, that would not have been permitted. The thought of Ivar drenched her eyes. Grief was strange, attacking at odd moments, then running off again as if gleeful at the misery left behind. She dabbed at her eyes as she stepped through the door.