A Harvest of Hope (33 page)

I
don
'
t
want
to
do
this
.
I
truly
do
not
want
to
do
this
.
I
can
'
t
!
Thorliff stared at his coffee cup.

Across the table from him, John Solberg watched him. “I cannot make you do it. I cannot insist. I can only advise you of the right thing. The scriptural way.”

“And I know you're right. But, John, he's not . . .” Thorliff sighed deep enough to air out his boots. “I can see that he'd feel uncomfortable with all the changes around here, with people who don't have Norwegian roots or culture. Or religion. The times change, and Anner doesn't want to. But when Astrid told me how that family was starving because he was demanding half their pay every week . . . I'm sorry. That's criminal. Just plain criminal. He should be in jail.”

“Do you want to call in Clyde Meeker? If it's criminal, the sheriff is the person to handle it. Of course, it could be that the Munros simply misunderstood.”

What a dilemma! Thorliff's thoughts were bouncing off walls in his head, all tangling in each other. “Right now, Anner doesn't like anyone associated with the Bjorklunds. He doesn't like anyone who goes to the ‘wrong' church or speaks the ‘wrong' language. Certainly not Father Devlin or the like. If I went over
to the bank to talk to him, who would go with me? I can't trust myself to be nice to him. The last time we were face-to-face, I nearly punched him.”

“I was thinking the dentist, Arthur Deming. He doesn't have a dog in this fight, so to speak. He's a neutral observer, but he attends our church. And I would go along gladly.”

Thorliff grimaced and wagged his head. How could he ever do this?

John said gently, “I understand, Thorliff, but Matthew eighteen is clear. You confronted Anner, and he refused you. The next step is to talk to him with a couple brothers present. If he still won't listen, we take it to the church. Jesus did not mention the sheriff, you know.”

“I know.” Thorliff lurched to his feet. “I guess I just have to do it.”

John stood. “Thank you. I appreciate how hard this is for you.”

Thorliff slogged along behind John to the hospital to the dentist's office, his heart even heavier than his feet.

Maybe Arthur Deming would be busy with a patient. Thorliff hoped. But no, the dentist had no patient in his chair. The receptionist, one of the wives from Tent Town, confirmed that there were no appointments in the next hour. Yes, Arthur said, he knew about the dissension, and he'd be glad to help out any way he could. Thorliff was doomed. At least that's what it felt like.

The three walked to the bank.

What
is wrong with me, anyway?
Thorliff wondered. He tried to imagine his father disliking a man this much, any man. He could not. Haakan had depended on prayer and common sense. He'd tended to see only the best in people, although toward the end of his life, he was a little more negative. But being negative and wanting to punch a man were two very different things. Thorliff must put aside his own thoughts and adopt his father's.

He doubted he could. He'd never felt this way about anyone in his entire life.

The sky had clouded over, and a brisk breeze was starting. The gray chill reminded Thorliff all over again that the new housing
must
be finished soon. And Anner stood in the way. Thorliff found himself detesting the banker even more.

The one cage had a teller in it today—Mr. Odell—and he had no customers. The safe stood open, as usual. Everything seemed so normal. Except Thorliff. He was all churned up.

John rapped on the office door, and Anner called, “Come in.” The three entered.

“Hello, John,” Anner said. Then he froze when he saw Thorliff and Deming, and his face turned from pleasant to angry, instantly.

“Hello, Anner.” John sounded relaxed and friendly.

Anner stood up. “If this is another inquisition—”

“Nothing of the sort. There are problems with financing in town here, and we'd like to sit down with you to work them out.”

“I do not negotiate with men who would threaten me.” Anner glared at Thorliff.

“I apologize.” It killed Thorliff to say that, but he knew it was the right step. “I apologize for losing my temper.”

“May I sit down?” John motioned toward a chair. He did not wait for Anner to say yes. He sat.

There was only one other chair in the room, so Thorliff stepped back to give it to Dr. Deming.

John's voice purred. “Anner, Garn Huslig told me that he came to you for cash to clean up the elevator mess, and you refused him the loan.”

Thorliff gasped. He had not heard about that.

Anner sat down. “Prudence, John. It is not prudent to loan a substantial amount of money to a man with no collateral. Mr. Huslig's collateral, the elevator and its contents, burned.”

“But that is why he needs the money.”

“I repeat, prudence. If he had hired a reasonable night man, he wouldn't need the money, the fire would not have happened,
and we'd still have our year's harvest of wheat. So it's his fault! By hiring that worthless Nordstrund, he showed his true colors. Imprudence.”

“I find that rather uncharitable, Anner. I'm sorry.”

Anner raised his voice. “I am paid to protect the financial interests of this town. I'm doing it. Now, I beg you, John, to take care of spiritual matters and leave the financial matters to me.”

A wicked thought slammed into Thorliff's head. Could it be? He turned on his heel and walked smartly out into the bank lobby. He climbed over the little wooden fence that divided the lobby where customers came from the part where the bank's officers operated.

Behind him, Anner screamed, “Get out of there, Bjorklund! Now you're going to rob the bank?” He charged out of the office, the other two behind him.

Thorliff stood in the doorway of that thick safe. He had to duck to look inside. He scanned the shelves, then stepped inside to look more closely. He turned away and came back out. “There's no cash here, Anner. Usually you keep a few stacks of bills handy. There has always been cash here.” He pointed. “Right there. The shelf is empty.”

“I moved it. I—”

“And that shelf there is empty. Where is all our money, Anner? Not in the safe.”

“Bjorklund, I do not answer to you!”

John was keeping his voice soft. “But you do answer to the citizens who hired you. We also came to talk about the Munros, Anner. Their baby was starving while you recovered his debt. I want to hear your side of that.”

Thorliff was furious now. More than furious. “How many more people are you gouging when they borrowed money? Where is the cash?”

Arthur Deming held up his hand in a gesture asking them to stop. “Wait! The conversation is becoming too heated. Anner,
how about you go sit down with John in your office, and Thorliff and I will wait outside? You two can iron out the problems better without us.”

That was certainly not the way Thorliff wanted the meeting to go, but John was nodding enthusiastically. “Good idea, Arthur.”

No, it was not a good idea at all! Thorliff was putting Anner on the carpet and John and Deming were getting him off it. But what could he say?

Thorliff let Arthur lay a hand across his shoulder and lead him outside. “Deming . . .”

Grinning, Dr. Deming headed for the alleyway. He murmured, “His window's open.”

Of course. Anner's office window was open six inches. Thorliff had not noticed that. Silently, they moved up until they were close to the window. They could hear everything.

Not that Thorliff wanted to. Listening to Anner only made him more furious.

Anner was practically shouting. “John, Munro is one of those foreigners. He misunderstood. That's all.”

“I doubt that. He speaks the king's English, literally, and if he says you threatened him with deportation, I tend to believe it. He is terrified of you.”

“I will husband the bank's money. I will—”

“But making money unethically never pays, Anner. It's like the Haggai Scripture says: ‘He that earneth wages earneth wages to put it into a bag with holes.' The bank cannot prosper unless you maintain the highest ethics.”

“There is nothing unethical here! John, you can't trust them, any of them. They're all dirty foreigners! They'll steal you blind if you let them! I was just getting the bank's money back before they skipped town or reneged or something! You know I wouldn't do that to somebody local.”

John's voice now sounded just plain sad. “How many, Anner? How many loans have you made to the Tent Town workmen?”

“A couple. That's all. A couple.”

“If I or someone else asked for a cash loan just now, could the bank provide it?”

Silence.

Thorliff stared at Arthur. Arthur stared back.

Then Anner said quietly, “No.”

“Anner, I'm beginning to see that you are so desperate to get some cash that you will go to any lengths. Unethical lengths.”

“
Not
unethical! I just told you—”

“Unethical. If, as you say, you would not treat a local borrower thus, you know it is unethical. Anner, believe me. I am not here to judge or condemn. I'm here to work out a solution.”

Anner sounded impatient. “There is no solution, John. Can't you get that through your head? The money in this town has completely dried up.”

“Back when we set up the charter, we agreed to hold ten thousand in reserve against an emergency. The fire was an emergency.”

“It's gone. Invested in properties and instruments that did not bring the return I was hoping for. I expected returns by now that would replenish our resources. You cannot just build, build, build with no cash coming back in, as from rents. And now, with the whole wheat crop lost, the situation is even more dire. There is no money.”

“So what is Blessing going to do?”

“Trying to put her banker on the spot is certainly not the answer.”

“I am not trying to put you on the spot. I'm trying to—”

“Well, you're doing a mighty fine job of it!” Anner's voice was rising. “I do the best I can, and everyone's against me. I see no reason to continue this charade when I don't have the backing of the people who hired me.”

Thorliff heard a jangly clattering.

Anner roared, “Here are the keys! Find yourself a banker who can make money appear out of nowhere!”

A door slammed.

Thorliff watched Anner stride down the street to his house and slam the door as he went inside. Now what to do? The three men gathered on the front porch of the bank, all looking a bit stunned.

“I never dreamed this would happen.” Thorliff kept shaking his head.

“I say we adjourn to the bank office. I think we need to keep things as normal as possible.” John Solberg led the way.

“Reverend Solberg?” Hans Odell caught their attention. Thorliff vaguely remembered Hans had been working as a teller for the last few years on a part-time basis.

“Yes, Hans.”

“I . . . I couldn't help but hear.”

“I know, probably you and half the town.”

“Could I speak with the three of you?”

“Of course. Come on in.”

Once in the office, Mr. Odell set his cash drawer on the desk. “I have a hundred fifty dollars here. While there are no bills on the shelf, we have some cash in another place—started doing that after the robbery. I'm not sure how much is in it right now, but every other evening the Garrisons bring in their receipts, as do Penny Bjorklund and Sophie Wiste. We do have businesses here that will provide more cash. There is money due the flour mill. You know Daniel Jeffers runs his accounts through here too. It isn't like we are totally insolvent, just cash poor at the moment.”

“We all bank here. As cash comes in, we will put it in the bank.”

Mr. Odell cleared his throat, hesitating. “You know, Mr. Valders did a good job with investing Blessing money for a long time.”

“But he got greedy?”

The white-haired man nodded. “He didn't do it for himself.”

“Thank you, Hans.”

“I think we can keep the doors open so the town does not panic. Stay open as usual.”

“And you can manage this?”

“Ja, I think so. I can do daily records, but I have always been only a bookkeeper, not a banker.”

“Do you know the combination to the safe?”

“I do.”

Reverend Solberg smiled. “Then, Mr. Odell, I submit that you are now a banker.” He laid a hand on Mr. Odell's shoulder. “You know the bank. You know Blessing. We would not ask you to take over if we did not have every confidence you can do it. You are a man of common sense.”

Hans Odell seemed to stand a bit straighter. “Thank you, sir.”

“Now, gentlemen, I suggest we do as Hans suggests and proceed normally as much as possible.” Reverend Solberg looked to Thorliff and Arthur. He handed the keys to the teller, who pocketed them and left to take care of a customer announced by a tinkling bell.

Thorliff stared at Solberg. “How are we going to pull this off?”

“By the grace of God, as always.”

G
randma?”

Ingeborg looked up from the sewing machine and smiled at Inga. She knew that tone. “What do you need?”

“Did you know my ma is going to have a baby and that is what is making her big around the middle?”

Ingeborg nodded and kept on stitching the seam, her feet pumping the treadle without her concentrating.

“So do the babies come out in people like the calves do from the cows?”

Oh Lord,
give me the right words.
She nodded again. “What has your ma told you about this?”

“Not a thing!” Her forehead wrinkled in a thundercloud. “I figured it out.”

“Really? Wouldn't you like to go find Emmy?”

“She's helping Freda. Thelma just keeps saying, ‘Wait until you are older.' What does that mean? Or, ‘You go ask your ma.'” The little girl threw her hands in the air. “How am I supposed to learn things if no one wants to teach me?”

Ingeborg stopped her stitching and drew her granddaughter into her embrace. “Some things just have to wait until we are older to understand.” She laid her cheek on Inga's head.

“So will this baby be all wrinkled and squally like Rebecca's baby? Benny thought he was okay, but I thought he was kind of ugly, and all he could do was cry and mess his diapers. How come human babies aren't cute like the chicks and calves?”

“I think they're cute. And they get cuter as they get older.”

“True. Benny's baby brother can laugh and play now. He can crawl too, and Benny takes him for rides on his wagon. At least in the house. His ma says it is too cold outside for the baby now.”

Ingeborg steeled herself for the questions she could see coming.

“How come God gave all the animals a winter coat, and we have to put on warmer clothes and babies have to be so wrapped up and—”

“You ask good questions, Inga. I don't know why God did what He did. But I am sure He knows. And has a good reason.”

“But—”

“How would you like to help me bake cookies?”

“Gingerbread men?”

“If you want.”

“How come we never make gingerbread girls?” She took her grandmother's hand, and the two walked downstairs to the kitchen.

“Because we don't have a cookie cutter for a girl gingerbread cookie.” At least she had a good answer for that one. Uff da. How to keep ahead of that one, or at least keep up?

“Grandma?”

Uh-oh. Here we go
again.

Freda smirked and winked at Ingeborg. “Inga, you fetch the eggs and the lard from the icebox, and Emmy, you help me get the things from the pantry.”

After Inga set the things on the table, she got the big crockery bowl out of the cupboard. “How come you don't have the receipt written down?”

“Because it is in my head.”

“But then no one else can know it. Emmy and me—er, I—could make the cookies all by ourselves if we could read the receipt.”

Ingeborg and Freda shared a nod and a look. The two girls giggled.

Ingeborg reached for her writing pad. “All right, here is what we will do. I will sit here and write the receipt down while I tell you what to put in next. Then next time, you will have it.”

“What about the applesauce cookies and all the others?”

“We'll see. Let's just do this one now.”

Inga and Emmy took turns measuring, mixing, and finally rolling out the dough, cutting them, and baking the cookies. When they were all cooling on the wooden racks, the girls dusted the flour off their hands, shook them vigorously, and turned to Ingeborg and Freda. “Now we will have coffee and cookies.”

Manny burst through the door. “Gingerbread cookies. We can smell 'em.”

Carl was right behind him. “Me too.”

“Did you get the calf pens cleaned out?” Freda asked.

“Of course.” Carl looked at her as if to wonder why she would even ask. She told them what to do, and they did it.

“Then go wash your hands.”

“Can they have coffee with us?” Inga asked.

“Why not? We'll have a coffee party.”

“Dinner will be ready soon.” Always practical Freda.

Carl looked up at her. “What's for dinner?”

“You sound just like your pa.” Ingeborg patted his cheeks. “Freda has chicken stew almost ready.”

“Dumplings?”

Freda snorted, and Ingeborg kept from breaking out in laughter. Leave it to Carl. One always knew exactly where you stood with this young man. Chicken stew must have dumplings.

Even Freda sat down to have coffee and cookies after she had fixed well-creamed coffee for the little ones. Manny now fixed his own.

They were halfway through their coffee and cookies when Patches started barking, announcing family coming.

Inga flew to the window. “Pa is coming.” She turned to her grandma. “You won't let him take me home yet, please?”

“No. You will be spending the night like we planned.”

“Just in time for dinner,” Freda said when Thorliff came through the door.

“I figured. Trygve and Andrew and I are going to bank your house and cover the screen doors. I see they're not here yet?”

“No. No word. I think Trygve is finishing up the forms for his basement.”

“I know. We're going over there next.” Thorliff hung his coat and hat on the coatrack.

“How's Elizabeth?”

“Looking better than she has for months.” He sank down on a chair with a sigh. “I can't believe we are more than halfway through November, and while we've had cold weather enough for butchering, winter has held off.”

“I know. And I am grateful.”

“We started practicing the music for the Christmas program at school.” Emmy looked toward Thorliff. “We will have parts to say too.” She smiled across the table. “Manny too.”

“Not if I can help it,” he muttered into his coffee cup and stuffed half a cookie into his mouth.

Ingeborg and Thorliff shared a knowing look. Manny would be drafted for something. All the children were. Even Benny and his wagon always had a part.

“I have started interviewing various people from the different nationalities here, and each week I will feature the Christmas customs of a different country in the newspaper. I'm hoping this will help our new people feel more a part of Blessing, and vice versa. I do not want the bank thing driving a wedge into this town.”

“And receipts too?” Inga looked eager. “You need receipts, so you can make Christmas cookies.”

“Any other suggestions?”

Freda looked into the distance wistfully. “I have always wished we could have the Santa Lucia festival of lights, but none of our people are Swedish.”

“Well, that was part of the Norwegian traditions too, wasn't it?”

“Not so much after the independence from Sweden. I think no longer celebrating that was kind of a backlash to the Swedish rule.”

“Maybe next year we can do that. I talked with Mr. and Mrs. Sidorov first, for the Russian traditions. He said there are so many different countries that make up Russia that they will speak of the ones where they lived. It's hard to believe how big Russia really is.” He dipped his cookie in his coffee. “Ah, this is so good. I think I'll keep the Norwegian ones until last.”

“For the community party with the school program, I shall ask all the women to bake or prepare foods from their country.” Ingeborg nodded as she spoke, her forehead wrinkled in thought.

“Especially the cookies and pastries,” Thorliff said with a grin.

Freda checked the dinner and looked to the clock. “You girls set the table.” Emmy and Inga jumped up, but when Ingeborg started to rise, Freda waved her back down. “You two visit a bit.”

Thorliff shrugged. “She sounds a lot like Thelma. Hey, did Grace or Jonathan tell you they are hiring Mrs. Rasinov to be their housekeeper, cook, and whatever else they need? She and her children will live right there.” He looked up. “So, Freda, you can have your house back.”

“Is there anyone else who needs my house?” She looked to Ingeborg. “If that would be all right with you?”

“You mean you would stay here?” Ingeborg could hardly believe her ears. Not that Freda had mentioned wanting to move back home, but she had assumed she did.

“With us?” Emmy beamed.

Manny nodded. “Good.”

“Well?”

Thorliff grinned. “Of course, I'm not sure which family yet, but there are plenty of candidates. That would take some more pressure off those working on the building. We hope to open the first floor next week, but when the people move in, they have to understand that the construction will go on above them. We got the fire damage repaired, so we are about winter tight. We've not done much on the inside, because the outside and roof needed all the work first.”

“What about the Sidorovs?” Ingeborg asked. “Their two sons are in school, and her sister is one of the laundresses at the hospital. The missus is in Amelia's daytime class, and her husband and sister are in the evening. She has been sewing along with the rest of us.”

Freda shook her head and shrugged. “There are beds enough. Go ahead and ask them.”

Both Emmy and Inga left their table setting and threw their arms around Freda's middle. She leaned over and patted their heads and shoulders.

Ingeborg was sure she saw the glint of tears in Freda's eyes. Had this been weighing on her? Perhaps she did not like living alone, even though her son and family were not that far away.
Or perhaps she is concerned about you.
That thought floated through her mind like thistledown on a breeze.

After dinner as all the others were going about their plans, she and the two girls returned to the sewing machine.

“Now we can work on Christmas, right?” Inga's whisper made Ingeborg nod. She and Emmy dug into their basket, where they stored the gifts they were making. Since both had learned to knit, they settled cross-legged on the floor. After Ingeborg checked their last row and told them whether to knit or purl—and why—silence reigned, other than the whir and thump of the machine and the click of needles.

Ingeborg was finishing up another shirt for Manny. In the evening she had been hemming his wool coat, but that didn't need to be secret. Emmy was knitting a scarf for him, and Inga was working on one for her father. Since knitting was a new skill for them, they couldn't talk and knit at the same time.

Ingeborg snipped the threads and shook out the shirt. She had to do the buttonholes and buttons, and then it would be done. She could hear the men outside stacking straw and manure from the calf pens against the house for insulation.

Like always, time flew fastest when you didn't want it to. She dreaded Thanksgiving, and it arrived long before Ingeborg was ready for it. She found the day to be very hard for her, this first major holiday since Haakan died. But that night she rocked beside the fire with the satisfaction that she had survived it.

Gloom be gone! The Sunday after Thanksgiving was a big day, in Blessing at least. Everyone gathered at the apartment building and Reverend Solberg led a service of blessing and dedication. That afternoon the first-floor residents moved in, which wasn't difficult, since no one had much to move. Everyone in town and the surrounding area donated what they could for tables and chairs, as each unit already came with a cooking stove and an icebox. Wooden boxes were put to use for chairs as well as for storage, and pegs on the walls served for hanging clothes. Families were given first preference. The remaining single men would share the apartments on the second floor when it was finished.

Monday, Miriam spent the day at Ingeborg's finishing up her sisters' dresses on Ingeborg's sewing machine. “I can't thank you enough. Between you and Mrs. Jeffers . . .” She shook out the dress after she tied off the last threads. “All I have to do is hem them, and my box will be ready to send.”

“All the sewing machines in town have been humming nearly around the clock.”

“When I think of all the hours it takes to hand sew a shirt . . .” She shook her head. “Sewing machines are one of the best inventions ever. When do you get to use your own machine?”

Ingeborg smiled. “Freda and I take turns after the others go to bed.”

“How many quilts have you done?”

She shrugged. “We all do different parts, so who knows? We tied off three more last week, and I know of at least four other tops that are ready to tie. All the women who can, meet at the church and put them together. We are running out of batting. I wish I had more sheep. We could card the wool and form it right into batting. Outfitting this many new homes is a huge undertaking.”

“It's a good thing other churches are sending boxes. Trygve said three more came in yesterday.”

Ingeborg nodded and tried to hide her smile. Did this young woman realize that even the way she said his name showed her feelings for him? How could she have any doubt that she was in love with Trygve Knutson? Why did the course of true love never run smooth?