Streams of Mercy (2 page)

“Is Kaaren picking you up?”

“Ja.” Ingeborg took out the bread knife and started slicing one of the loaves she had baked the day before. Once the bread was sliced, she started on a block of cheese from the icebox she now kept in the pantry, blocking the window, cooled by the frigid air.

“Who is bringing the soup today?” Freda took over stirring the oatmeal.

“Mrs. Magrun and Anji Moen.” Ingeborg stood erect and stretched her back. “How is the supply of sheep fodder—have you noticed?”

“Down. When you bought those sheep, I thought it was a good idea. Now, I’m not so sure. No milk, no meat, no wool. Just more and more hay and grain disappearing. And that ram? No use at all.” Freda gave the oatmeal one more stir and dragged it aside.

“To everything a season.”

“Oh, I know, but . . . ”

Ingeborg smiled. “Have you forgotten what lambing is like?”

“Ja. Lots of work in the middle of the night. Never a nice convenient time. And shearing. Uff da.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Thorliff if he sees any ads for fodder. He gets papers from other towns. Someone might have spare. And possibly even for sheep. I have been thinking we might get a few more. We can always use the wool. I’ve not done any spinning for ages. And I would like to hang a couple of hindquarters in the haymow for fenalar. We’ve not had that for a long time.” Ingeborg smiled to herself. Since fenalar was brined and dried lamb or mutton, not smoked, the summer heat in the rafters of the haymow would do a fine job of drying the meat.

Freda nodded. “That does sound good, all right. So does salted and dried fish. We didn’t do any of that last summer either.”

“We never caught more than we ate. Besides, we get fresh fish from the fish house.” Manny had been joining Trygve and some others down on the frozen river, fishing through a hole cut in the ice. Cold weather didn’t stop her fishermen.

Ingeborg had her baskets of dinner contributions and sewing things ready when Patches announced that Kaaren had arrived. Waving as she went out the door, Ingeborg shivered when the north wind hit her as she made her way to the sleigh. She set her baskets in the back seat and climbed into the front beside Kaaren, tucking the heavy robe around their legs. “Sure feels like snow to me,” she said in greeting.

“I know. The clouds look it too.” Kaaren waited until Ingeborg was settled and flipped the lines to move the horse forward. “I remembered to bring the horse blanket this time. We should have built a long shed to protect the horses, you know.”

“Should have built lots of things, but an addition to the schoolhouse or a new one needs to top the list. How is Jonathan coming with the plans for the deaf school?”

“He and Grace have big dreams. I have trouble looking beyond the cost. But we’ve had to turn away too many people who need our help, and that is not good either. We have four bunk beds to a room now, and we might have to start eating in shifts. It’s a good thing I’ve been able to hire two women who once lived in Tent Town to work in the kitchen. Their English is improving all the time, so life is easier for Ilse. Whoever dreamed that my little school would grow this big?”

“God did and does. I think Grace is right. You should go back to New York and visit the school where she taught.”

“Uff da, now you sound like her and Jonathan. As long as they are knowledgeable, why should I have to put up with that
terrible long train ride? Besides, who would run the school if we both left?”

“Ilse, of course.” Ingeborg tightened the scarf around her neck and over her hat. Although it was her habit to wear a hat to church, no matter the purpose, she should have abandoned it for the warmth of a heavy wool scarf and a shawl. Or a knitted stocking hat. Now, wouldn’t that draw attention and probably chuckles. The first to comment on anything was always Hildegunn, and critically too.

Ingeborg thought about that for a moment. “Why is it that we women continue to wear hats like we do in the middle of the winter, and why have we allowed Hildegunn to be our dictator of what is proper?”

“Style? Fashion? Habit? How should I know? Regarding Hildegunn, because it is easier to give in than to argue. Your question makes me think of Inga.”

“The bottomless question pit?”

Kaaren grinned and continued. “She asked why God made some people deaf.”

“And you said?”

“I asked her what she thought, and she said it was so they would learn to listen to Jesus in their hearts better.”

Ingeborg felt her jaw drop. “She didn’t. I mean . . .”

“I know. I just smiled and nodded, because I could not think of an appropriate response.”

“You need to tell that to Thorliff and Elizabeth.”

“I plan to.” Kaaren turned the horse to the hitching rack on the south side of the church, where several others were already waiting. Together the two women climbed down, threw the heavy blanket over the horse, and after tying a lead over the rail, fetched their baskets from the back of the sleigh. Kaaren paused. “Are you all right?”

“Only a twinge. I have decided that God wants me to kill her with kindness.”

“Kill?” Kaaren could arch her eyebrows very effectively.

“My translation.” Fighting to keep herself calm and thinking kind thoughts, Ingeborg led the way up the three steps. That time she was frozen in the wagon, unable to move, because of confronting Hildegunn, still caused twinges in spite of the months in between.

Warmth and laughter greeted them as they pulled open the heavy carved doors given to the church in memory of Haakan. He had started carving them before he got so weak, and Thomas Devlin, along with Manny and a couple of others, had finished the job. The doors had been installed on the anniversary of Haakan’s death in August.

Hildegunn must not be here again
, Ingeborg thought as she walked down the stairs. Too much frivolity going on.
Ingeborg Bjorklund, what happened to your resolution to think kind thoughts?
Sometimes her inner voice could be sarcastic too.

Anji Moen smiled at them both as she took the food baskets from them and carried them to the table. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”

Anji seemed so much older than Ingeborg remembered her to be, and sadder. Anji had grown up in Blessing, and after Thorliff went away to college, she had met a journalist from Norway. After they married, they divided their time between Norway and North Dakota. Ivar already had two daughters and together they had four more children. Last fall, a year or so after he died, she and her four children returned to Blessing to be closer to her brothers and sisters, leaving her husband’s daughters with his family in Norway.

With a smile Rebecca took their sewing baskets over to the sorting table.

Usually Hildegunn came early and fixed the coffee. If one or the other of them failed at their duties, she’d be huffing and slinging criticism as if they had committed a major sin. Ingeborg flinched inside but managed to smile on the outside. At least she hoped she did. She unlooped her scarf and laid coat and scarf on the coat mound on one table. Kaaren nudged her and smiled.

“All will be well,” she whispered.

Ingeborg inhaled and breathed out slowly. “Ja, all will be well.” So often through the years she had said that to others. She believed it bone deep, but it was easy to forget, and everyone needed reminding.

“I am sorry to be late,” Hildegunn said as she came rushing down the stairs.

Ingeborg flinched in spite of herself. The desire to leave immediately blew through her mind. She turned. Hildegunn had apologized. Say something!

“You are just in time so we can start the meeting. Welcome, everyone,” she said, raising her voice. “Will you please get your coffee and take a chair so we can begin?”

Ingeborg glanced up to find Hildegunn staring at her.
Haunted
was the only word she could think of to describe the look in her eyes.
Move!
the voice in her head commanded in no uncertain terms. So she did. “Here, let me help you with that.” She took Hildegunn’s basket to set on the table. “It’s so terribly cold with that wind. Did you walk over?” Smiling over her shoulder, she saw Hildegunn close her eyes for just a moment. Surely those were tears she had blinked back.
O Lord God, give me the right words.

“How else would I get here?” Hildegunn shook her head as she laid her coat on the mound. “Some of us do not have a team and sleigh, you know.”

“I’ll get your coffee.” Choosing to ignore the barb was definitely heavenly grace. It would be so easy to snap back. “I’ll set it on the table.”

As the fifteen women took their places in the circle of chairs, the hubbub calmed to a murmur. Kaaren patiently waited, her smile intact.

Ingeborg felt like she was off in a corner observing, even though she was sitting next to Anji with Rebecca on the other side.

Across the circle Amelia Jeffers smiled at Anji with a bit of a wave. “How are the children? Did your youngest get over the croup?”

“Ja, thanks to Astrid and the syrup Ingeborg has been making for so many years. I couldn’t find anything like it in Norway.”

“I know. Metiz taught me the basis and I added more ingredients.”

Anji smiled. “Speaking of Metiz makes me think of my mother. Coming back here has made me think of her even more.”

“You are the picture of her in those early years. Agnes Baard was the best friend anyone could have.” Ingeborg squeezed Anji’s hand. “I’m glad you are back here for always.”

“My, how our group has grown,” Sophie said as she took the chair beyond Rebecca. “We should be able to accomplish great things.”

“Uh-oh. Something gives me a feeling we are about to—”

“Let us pray.” Kaaren bowed her head and the others followed her actions.

Ingeborg settled herself, but her mind wanted to follow that conversation.

“Lord God, thank you for bringing us together to praise you this morning and to do your will. You promised to be right
here with us, and we count on your presence to teach us, to mold us always into your family so that we may obey your command to love one another even as you have loved us. Father, we confess that we stray so easily from your Word. Controlling our minds and tongues is an ever-present duty, so please fill us with your spirit of love today and every day. Guide us on your path, we pray in Jesus’ precious name.” They all joined together on the amen.

She raised her head and smiled around the group. “Thank you for braving the cold. Yesterday I thought spring was almost here, but winter is surely blowing back today. We have a lot to accomplish, but let’s start with the Word. Penny, would you read our verses for today?”

Penny opened her Bible and stood. “Our lesson today is from First John 4, starting with verse 7: ‘Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God. . . .’”

Love. There it was again. Love for all, and that included Hildegunn. The Bible did not make easy demands.

Kaaren thanked her and nodded. “For those of you who are working so hard to learn English, Amelia, could you please simplify the first three verses?”

Ingeborg glanced across the circle when she heard a tongue clicking. Sure enough, Hildegunn was making her disapproval known.

Shades of Anner Valders. And it was so sad. Anner had considered anyone who did not speak fluent Norwegian to be a foreigner, including any Indians who might have lived in the Dakotas for centuries before Norwegians ever arrived. But he had mysteriously disappeared several months ago after losing his position at the bank because of his mistreatment of an immigrant. Packed a carpetbag and got on the train. Ingeborg had wondered once if Hildegunn actually had a problem with
foreigners moving to Blessing or if she was simply parroting her husband’s opinion. Apparently it had become her opinion as well.

Amelia stood and repeated the verses slowly and clearly, then reworded them.

Several of the women smiled and nodded.

“Thank you, Amelia. Hopefully one of things we are doing here today is showing God’s love for each other and those who are blessed by our quilts and our sewing. Let’s get through our business as quickly as possible so that we can get to work. Hildegunn, will you read the letter we received from the tribal agency where we sent the girls’ clothes we sewed?”

Hildegunn nodded and unfolded the piece of paper.

“Dear Women of the Lutheran Church in Blessing, North Dakota,

Thank you for sending the warm dresses to our schoolgirls. For many who are new here, that was the first time they had something brand new of their own. They loved the bright colors, and thank you for putting deep hems in the skirts, as they are growing so fast.”

Hildegunn folded the paper. “They thanked us for the quilts we sent earlier too.”

“Thank you, Hildegunn. Sophie, you had something you wanted to say?”

“I do.” She paused while the whistle of the incoming train made it hard to hear, then continued. “I’ve been talking with doctors Elizabeth and Astrid, and they said that they could use more gowns at the hospital. We had sewed a stack of them before, and they are hoping we will do so again. As some of the sheets and bedding begin to wear out, they will give us the
holey ones to use to create new gowns. The fabric, of course, is usually still pretty good around the edges. Are we willing to do that for them?”

“What about the quilts we have already started? Shouldn’t we finish those first?” Rebecca asked. “I think some of our townspeople still do not have warm enough bedding.”

“If only we had more wool batts.”

“I raised many sheep in Latvia, before we came in America,” one of the women said. “I make quilt battings out of the locks and thribs; you know, the short, coarse wool.”

Ingeborg nodded. “I purchased some sheep last fall when they were cheap and plan on buying more sheep if I can find them without going too far. Perhaps others might consider that too. I haven’t done any spinning for so long, and I miss it.”

“Oh, ja.” Mrs. Juris, the woman who had just spoken, nodded. “I too. Spinning is so peaceful, relaxing. I help you?”

“Ja. Perhaps others too?”

Another woman raised her hand. “I too.”