A Harvest of Hope (29 page)

Daniel crossed the room and took her in his arms, murmuring an apology for making her cry again, and with that she cried harder. “Dear heart, what is it?”

“I-I want F-Far to come back.” The broken words caused her tears to stop. She leaned her head against him, wondering at what she had said. She didn't mean to say that.

“Ingeborg said she thought that grief from Haakan's dying was finally catching up with you.”

“Really?” Leaning against him felt so good.

“I remember when my father disappeared, my mother was so lost. She kept hoping we would find him and then despaired that he had died. She said she was so tired of crying. I'll never forget those days.”

“So when you finally found out what had happened?”

“She cried for a while longer, but nothing like the early days. Ingeborg and Elizabeth both agreed that exhaustion would be expected after all that has transpired here.”

Astrid thought she nodded but wasn't sure. When he helped her lie back down, she slipped again into her inner darkness.

Several days later, Astrid pleaded with Elizabeth not to come check on her again. Even once a day was pushing things.

“But I feel good again.”

“You're not tired?” The pause before Elizabeth confessed “some” said more than the answer.

“But all women get tired in pregnancy. I take naps. I put my feet up, Astrid. I am not a fool. I am an accredited physician, and I am being careful.” Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. “I have done what you ordered for several months now, and you were right. It has worked. I promise that I will stop if I feel any changes at all.”

Astrid heaved a sigh. It was time for her to get going again. There was no question about that. Why had she never heard how disastrously grief could affect the body? She understood exhaustion, but . . . “I should be over this by now.” A huge yawn caught her before she could disguise it.

“I can tell.” Elizabeth leaned forward. “Astrid, I am not climbing the stairs at my house. I am resting in between anything. I am eating right, like a horse actually, and I am thanking God for making all this possible. Miriam and the other nurses are doing a fine job at the hospital, and since we've had no new patients admitted, they are more than capable enough to see to things.”

“Have you been doing rounds?”

“I am curtailing everything I can. Thankfully, there have been no babies in a hurry to come into this world, so no night calls. I sleep soundly.”

The dark heaviness lurked just beyond Astrid's sight, the lack of oxygen always a forerunner, announcing the return of her nemesis.

“And with that, I am going home to take another nap,” Elizabeth said. “On doctor's orders—mine.”

“I will do rounds in the morning.” Astrid spoke softly but firmly.

“We shall see.”

In spite of her determination to be up and moving around, Astrid fell asleep in the chair.

T
ears had drenched her pillow. Again.

Ingeborg sat up and stripped the pillowcase off the goose-down pillow. She'd thought she was over deluges like that. Was that what had awakened her or was it something else? She listened carefully. Someone was rattling the grate, and dark hadn't even begun to think about leaving. Who could be up already?

She blew her nose and felt with her feet for the moccasins Metiz had made her all those years ago and she still used as slippers. A lamp glow glimmered between the floor and the door. Sliding her arms into her robe sleeves, she shrugged it on as she crossed the room, as always pausing a moment to listen for Haakan's breathing. When would she ever stop these senseless actions? Habits died hard. Robe belted, she opened the door. “Manny, what are you doing up?”

He turned to her with a grin. “I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep so thought I'd start the stove for you. I was trying to be quiet.”

“What time is it?”

“Five. The other milkers will be down at the barn soon.”

Ingeborg trapped a yawn and shivered. “I'll fill the coffeepot
while you get the fire going. You want something to eat before you go out?”

He dipped his head toward the table, where one decapitated and one whole gingerbread man lay. “I already raided the cookie jar.”

Ingeborg dumped the coffee grounds in the compost bucket and pumped the hand pump until icy water gushed into the coffeepot. She rinsed it out and filled it with water.

The crackle of flames in fine kindling raised the scent of pine resin in the room. Manny's shavings were the perfect fire starter.

That thought brought another memory: all the years Haakan had supplied the shavings as he carved spoons and ladles, coat hooks, a train for Carl, doll beds for the little girls that Ingeborg created the stuffed bodies for. Through the years he'd created furniture for the house too, her rocking chair being one of his first gifts to her. Another tear leaked over. If she closed her eyes, she could see him sitting in his chair, busy knife in hand and the shavings box beside him while she read aloud.

And now Manny, Haakan's pupil and protégé, was making shavings as well. He was whittling something—peg legs for Benny, he'd said. If that was it, they needed a lot of work yet.

“You want anything from the springhouse?” Manny asked.

From the back porch, Patches announced the arrival of the men for milking.

“A jug of milk, please.” She checked the number of eggs in the basket on the counter. “You better bring some eggs too. Takk.”

He grinned at her as he shoved his arms in his jacket. “Vaer sÃ¥ god.” And out the door he went.

She stood there a moment openmouthed.

Ingeborg heard the men's greetings outside. Strange that Freda wasn't up yet. Shortly after the Rasinovs had moved in after the fire, Freda had suggested that they have her house and she'd sleep here. Usually she was the first one up.

With the coffeepot on the front of the stove, Ingeborg fetched
the can where she kept the ground coffee and measured what she needed. That too was running low. She'd set Emmy to grinding coffee when she got home from school. Today the women were meeting at the church again to get more winter coats sewn for those whose belongings had burned. They'd received a big box of wool coating material from a church in Minneapolis that had heard of their need. Another box held winter coats. Reverend Solberg had put out the word of their needs, and other churches had responded.

“'Morning, Grandma.” Already dressed, Emmy joined her by the stove. “Should I set the table?”

“Did you hear Freda?”

“She's coming. Can I sew with you after school?”

“On the sewing machine, you mean?” Ingeborg set the flour tin on the counter, along with the buttermilk, soda, and bacon grease can from the stove.
What a good idea!
Teach Emmy to sew. She was not too young. For that matter, even Inga was getting old enough.

“Biscuits?” Freda tucked the ends of her braids into the knot at the base of her head as she came into the kitchen. “Why didn't you wake me up?”

“Never entered my mind. You're always up first.”

“I don't know what came over me, sleeping like that. Why, I didn't even hear you start the stove.” She tied her apron in back. “Did you slice the meat off yet?”

“No.”

Freda fetched the smoked venison haunch from the pantry. Trygve and Samuel had gone hunting and brought in two young bucks. They'd smoked the haunches and shoulders and ground some for sausage. As soon as the weather turned colder, the butchering would start, replenishing their meat supplies. Four steers were being grain fed in the corral to fatten them. They would butcher two at a time and then the others after the meat was processed and distributed among the families. The hogs
were ready to be butchered too. The smokehouses would be in use full time for a while.

A memory of the last time she'd gone hunting made Ingeborg smile, at least inside. Thorliff had challenged her as to who could bag the first deer. He had been utterly shocked when his mother won. Would her aim be true anymore, since she'd not shot a rifle in years?

“Are you going sewing with us today?” Ingeborg glanced at Freda.

“How about if Thelma and I bring the dinner over? How many might be there?”

Ingeborg shrugged. “I'm hoping some of the tent people will come. Everyone who has a sewing machine is bringing it. We'll leave everything set up and sew every day until Sunday.”

Freda settled into a chair. “I'll hem Manny's coat here while the stew and dumplings are cooking. You've marked both hems. Right?”

“Ja, and I left plenty deep hems so we can let them out. He's starting to sprout up. His pants are already getting short, just since school started.”

“Probably 'cause he is getting good food for a change.”

Ingeborg ignored Freda's rancor against the way Manny had been raised. Someday he might tell her more. Right now he only let little bits of information slip out during a conversation. For a boy who at first didn't want to go to school, he now hungered after knowledge. Which brought up another memory, this one of Haakan teaching the boy as much as he could, the two of them sitting on the porch carving or repairing whatever needed fixing. This must be a morning for memories, and thusly tears.

When Manny returned from milking, carrying eggs in his pockets and a jug of milk, he laid the eggs carefully on the counter. “That cow caught Andrew this morning. He was some mad.”

“Because everyone else laughed?”

“That too, but he's like you. Hates to see anything go to waste. They don't make me milk her. I'm glad.”

Ingeborg stilled the desire to hug the boy. So far he'd pulled away whenever she'd attempted a hug, but one of these days . . . His volunteering a story like this was coming more often. She motioned to the table, and as soon as the bowls were on the table, they all sat down. “Would you please say the grace, Emmy?”

She nodded and closed her eyes. As always, the pause lengthened before she began. “Heavenly Father, thank you for our house and all the good food we have to eat. Please make sure my other family has food too. And help Manny do good on his test. Amen.”

“You prayed for me!” He stared at her, mouth open.

“You said you were scared of this test, so Grandma says to always ask God to help.”

Ingeborg could see the ideas ricocheting in his mind. Emmy, all of them really, caught him by surprise every once in a while.

He stared at Ingeborg. “Do you pray too? For me, I mean?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Patches barked, announcing company.

Manny tore his gaze away from her to check the clock. “Might be Trygve. Samuel wouldn't be this early.”

“Breakfast sure smells good,” Trygve announced as he came in and hung his hat on the rack by the door.

“You've not been here for breakfast in a long while.” Freda got up to refill the serving bowls.

“Grace was in a hurry to get to the deaf school and Jonathan hasn't gotten back from Minneapolis yet. Thorliff sent me to make sure all you need is done here too.”

“Minneapolis?”

Trygve nodded. “Jonathan took the train to Minneapolis to talk to an architect about the addition to the deaf school. His father recommended the firm, so now that the farm chores are slowing down, Jonathan is working on that dream.” Trygve
smiled at Freda. “Thanks for cooking extra. I figured you'd want some help getting that next cheese order ready to ship.”

“Help is always good. Manny has built a bunch of crates already.”

“I'll help more when I get home.”

Manny, Ingeborg noticed, was well into his hungry stage. She also noticed that this time he didn't suggest he should miss school in order to work in the cheese house. Whoever would have dreamed this boy could come this far so fast?

After the kids were out the door, Ingeborg gathered up the remainder of supplies she had collected for the sewing marathon. She had sharpened her scissors the night before, something else that Haakan had always done for her. Sharpening scissors was a bit tricky, but she had persevered. So many things he had done that she had come to take for granted. She clamped her jaw against the welling tears.
You will not
feel sorry for yourself
, she ordered.
Start thanking God right
now, before you get trapped. Thank you, Lord, for the
fabrics provided, for good food, for Manny helping, for our
warm house, for Trygve always so willing to help, for
the cat that caught that mouse in the pantry, for
sun and the changing seasons
. Her spirits lifted as she found more to be grateful for, and soon she found herself humming.

“You sound happy.” Freda returned from dumping the dishwater on the rosebushes by the front porch. She rinsed the dishpan and hung it on the hook behind the stove. “Good. You've been weepy lately.”

“I know, but I reminded myself that praising God is a way to drive those tears away.”

“Not easy.”

Ingeborg heaved a sigh with a small nod. “Ja, but I like it better than the pit.” They had talked through the years of the death of Ingeborg's first husband, Roald, and how she and Kaaren fought both the pit of despair that nearly overcame Ingeborg and the struggle of proving up the land for their children.

The jangle of harness brought her to the window. Trygve had the team harnessed to the wagon. She stepped out onto the porch.

He called, “I'm going over for Mor and her things, then I'll pick you up on the way back. That way I can help haul those sewing machines into the church.”

“Tusen takk.” She waved and turned back inside. If it didn't warm up plenty today, they would have frost for sure overnight. It was about time. Back in the kitchen she glanced at the oaken box on the wall. “We sure got used to having telephones, didn't we?”

“You might bring that up while you're sewing. I know it will be a while before a separate building will be built again, but the post office and the telephone switchboard . . .” Freda shook her head. “ What if the town rented the soda shop building for the winter as soon as that is repaired and put the post office and switchboard there?”

“Surely someone already thought about that.”

“I've not heard any such scuttlebutt. I know Daniel offered a space for the post office. Bring it up to the ladies.” Freda started peeling the potatoes for the stew. “I'll go dig a few carrots.” At the sound of harness music, she stopped. “First I'll help Trygve with the machine. You go ahead.”

Ingeborg picked up several baskets, and Freda picked up the box to load in the wagon.

Kaaren waved and called cheerily, “Gud dag.”

“Gud dag!” Ingeborg climbed in.

Trygve came out with the sewing machine, put it at their feet, and clambered up into the box. He flicked the reins, and the wagon lumbered off.

“You're awfully quiet today,” Kaaren remarked as they neared the church.

“Just thinking.”

“Dreading that Hildegunn might be here?”

“Not really.” They could hear the children out for recess at
the school, and when the wagon stopped at the church steps, chatter from the ladies came from inside.

Ingeborg heard Hildegunn's voice loud and clear, giving instructions, of course. “No, I think it would be better over there.” Ingeborg froze to the wagon seat. Trygve helped his mother down and waited to do the same for Ingeborg.

She couldn't move.

“Tante, are you all right?”

Ingeborg swallowed in spite of the tight feeling in her chest. She ordered herself to breathe.
Answer him. I can't.
She swallowed again, but her mouth had gone dry.

“Mor, come here.” Trygve's whisper brought his mother from the rear of the wagon.

“Ingeborg, what is it?” Kaaren put a foot on the wagon wheel and hauled herself up before Trygve could help her. As always in the heat of a pressure, she switched to Norwegian. “Ingeborg, can you hear me?”

Ingeborg nodded, at least she hoped she did. Her heart raced. She closed her eyes.

“Any pain?”

“Let me take her to the hospital.”

Ingeborg shook her head. Forcing herself to take a deep breath slowly and puffing it out, she squeezed the hand that had taken her own. “Nei.” This time when she breathed deep again, her shoulders settled back into their normal place. What had happened? But when she thought back to Hildegunn's voice, she shuddered. She turned her head carefully, as if it might fall off. “I . . . I don't want . . .” Another breath, this time easier. “Hildegunn. I cannot abide the thought of having another . . .” She searched for the word. “Argument, uh, confrontation, uh, mess with her. I think the sound of her voice— This is crazy, but I froze.” Her head wagging, she swallowed and frowned.