Blessing in Disguise (27 page)

As they all scattered to their assigned tasks, Pastor Solberg beckoned to Andrew. “Come with me.”

Andrew looked to Thorliff, who shrugged and nodded at the same time. When he rose from his seat, the smaller Bjorklund looked as if he was headed for a whipping.

Pastor Solberg opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine with Andrew at his side. “Come, let’s walk a bit.” The silence stretched between them, making Andrew squirm as though he were sitting on a thistle bush. “Now, Andrew, I know something happened at recess, and I know, too, that you don’t want to tell me about it. But I have my suspicions, and you need to tell me the truth.”

Andrew sniffed and clenched his fists.

“Someone said something that made you angry?”

Andrew nodded and sniffed again. He dug in his pocket for a handkerchief and blew his nose. Looking up, he wished he were flying with the geese—anywhere but right where he was.

“Now, I know you well enough to know that if someone called you a name, you’d just ignore it, but if someone calls someone else a name or says something bad about them, you get upset. Especially if it is someone you believe is weaker or more vulnerable.”

Andrew looked up. “What is vul . . . vularable?”

“Vulnerable. That’s someone who can be hurt easily.” Pastor Solberg waited.

“Oh.” Andrew’s nose itched so badly he wanted to scratch it off. Neglecting his handkerchief this time, he used the cuff of his sleeve.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Uh-uh.” Andrew studied the third button of his shirt as if it held the secrets of the world.

“I was afraid of that.” Pastor Solberg pointed to a block of wood next to the chopping block. “Sit.” Andrew sat, and the teacher took his place on the chopping block, leaning back slightly against the ax handle. “Now, I know that tattling is considered a sin right up there with murder, but if I don’t know what is happening, I cannot teach those mistreating others to not do so.”

All he could see was the top of Andrew’s head, hair so gold it shone white. Solberg let the silence stretch again until the little boy had the fidgets so bad he would get splinters in his rear any moment. “Was it Jerry?”

Andrew moved not a muscle.

“Was it Toby?”

The nod was so brief that if Solberg hadn’t been watching carefully, he would have missed it.

“And was it about our Negro students?”

Another nod came, so minuscule Andrew’s hair didn’t even move.

Solberg nodded. “All right, Andrew, you can be relieved that you did not tattle, because you did not say a word, and while I will not do anything today so that they cannot accuse you, be assured that something will be done. And, Andrew . . .”

After a silence, Andrew looked up at his teacher.

“Please do not try to take this into your own hands. While your willingness to protect the weaker is admirable, sometimes you have to let the ones in authority do their job. I don’t want to hear of any fistfights. Do you understand me?”

Andrew nodded, but he wore a stubborn look that told Pastor Solberg this boy would most likely get even somehow.

“Andrew, the Bible says that revenge is the Lord’s. Our job is to love those around us, not take vengeance on them.”

The boy’s head snapped up. “You mean I got to love them?” The horror on his face made Solberg want to smile, but he disciplined himself to keep his lips straight.

“I know. God asks a lot of us, and most times His way is not the easy way.” He laid a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “But violence begets violence, and we will not have that here.” He stood. “Now, let’s go back inside, unless you have any questions?”

This time the headshake was vigorous enough to set Andrew’s hair to swinging.

“Good. Because if I learn of any retribution on your part, I will deal with you as severely as the offenders.”

“Yes, sir.” Andrew paused and looked up at his teacher. “What is re . . . re—”

“Retribution? That means taking the punishment into your own hands. Getting even.”

“But . . .”

“But what?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Let’s see that there is nothing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did ya get a whippin’?” Ellie whispered as Andrew took his seat again. When he shook his head, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Pastor Solberg watched, and he could see that Andrew had a hard time enjoying either the singing or the story at the end of the day. When school let out, Thorliff and Baptiste hitched up the wagon for the teacher and his family, much to Manda’s disgust. After the schoolhouse was cleaned and in order again, they got in the wagon and Manda drove them home. Once there the girls headed outside for chores, and Mary Martha went to the kitchen to start the stove. John clasped his hands behind his back and thought what to say.

“I have a problem.”

“I know. I can tell. Between you and Andrew, I wasn’t sure who was more down at the mouth.”

“Really?” He looked at her in surprise.

“Really. So tell me from the beginning, and we will see how we can work it out so that little boy doesn’t have such a heavy burden to carry.”

He followed her into the kitchen, and while she rattled the grate and added wood to the coals, he paced the floor, telling the story. At the conclusion, he stopped by the stove where the coffee water was now heating up. “Those two Valders boys are bringing so many bad things to these children that at times I wish they had never gotten off the train here.”

“Ah, but how blessed they are that they did. They just have a lot of bad habits to unlearn, that’s all.”

“Seems the only thing they understand is the rod, and I hate to use it overmuch. I know if I tell Anner what is going on, he will apply the rod without a doubt.”

“So you want another way.” She measured the coffee she’d just ground into the pot and set the lid in place.

“Um. I wonder where their ideas about Negroes came from. New York isn’t a southern city by any means, and that is where they grew up.”

“Who knows what and who taught them, after living on the streets like they did . . .” Mary Martha shuddered. “Now, if they’d come from Atlanta or Charleston . . .”

“So what can I do?” John rubbed his chin, always a sign he was deep in thought.

“I’d say to pray first. God set this all in motion, so surely He has a solution.”

John stopped his pacing. “You know, sometimes I wonder if God didn’t make the wrong person pastor here.” He came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You, my dear, have the wisdom of the ages in that lovely head of yours.”

Mary Martha leaned back against him. “I’d like to help at the school more often now that I seem to be over the morning sickness. Rushing outside to puke wouldn’t make a good impression on your pupils.”

His hands dropped lower and cradled her barely rounded belly. “So hard to believe a little life is growing in there. What a miracle.”

“Yes, well, if I don’t get going, the miracle will be that there will be food on our table for supper.” She turned enough to kiss his cheek. “I’ll let you go converse with the real Wisdom, but first please bring in an armload of wood.”

Later that night when they were almost asleep, John snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it.”

“Good,” Mary Martha murmured without opening her eyes. “Tell me in the morning.”

“I might forget by morning.” He turned on his side and cuddled her spoon fashion. “They say that hate comes from ignorance, so those two boys must gain knowledge. I will have them go through the Bible and look up every reference to people with colored skin and see what they learn.”

“There aren’t too many.”

“I know, but it will be a start. Then I must find books that discuss this issue, and they can read those. In fact, I think the whole school should do this. Those two boys can start it off by giving a report from what they learned.”

“They better learn to read better first.”

“I know. Perhaps you would like to help them?” He kissed her hair.

“Good. Tell me again tomorrow.” His chuckle made her smile, but she never said anything else because she fell sound asleep.

The next afternoon, while Mary Martha led the rest of the school in singing, Pastor Solberg took the two boys outside and sat them on a bench facing him. As he explained what he wanted them to do, their eyes grew round with horror.

“But . . . but that means I got to read the whole entire Bible.” Toby flopped back against the sod wall. “I can’t never do that, not in a million years.”

“Me neither.” Jerry kept shaking his head as if it hung loose on its axis.

“That’s why you will do this together. I will make a list of the books of the Bible that have references you will need, so we can speed this up.”

“Why are you picking on us?” Toby clamped his arms across his chest.

“Why do you think?”

“Just cause we don’t like nigg—Negroes.” Eyes slitted, he glared at Pastor Solberg.

Pastor Solberg pulled his coat tighter around him. The wind that kicked up leaves at his feet felt as if it blew straight down from the North Pole.

“Would you like me to add more?” His voice was soft, but the meaning unmistakable.

“Sh-sh-sh.” Jerry nudged his brother. “Are you gonna tell our pa?”

“Only that you might need help with your research.”

“I druther take a lickin’.” Toby slumped back again.

“Not me. Pa said if we got another lickin’ at school, he was gonna make sure we got a worse one t’home.” He looked directly in Pastor Solberg’s eyes. “But we ain’t got a Bible, and the one t’home is in Norwegian. We don’t have to learn to read it in that, do we?”

Pastor Solberg smiled. “No, son, you don’t have to do that. I will make sure you have a Bible written in English. I’ll have the book list ready for you tomorrow. Any questions?”

“No, sir.” Jerry prodded his brother to mumble an answer.

The three of them got to their feet. “Oh, and boys, if I were you, I’d make sure to welcome our new pupils to our school, just as you were welcomed.”

“Yes, sir.” Though speaking through clenched teeth, the two did respond politely.

Solberg let them go ahead of him into the schoolhouse and smiled at their backs. A few months ago they wouldn’t have known to say that. The Valders boys were making progress.

After reaching his desk, Pastor Solberg called the students to attention. “Since we are going to be studying slavery and the Civil War, I have a new book that Mrs. Solberg will be reading every afternoon.” He held up a copy of
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
. “This book has the reputation for starting the fight that nearly divided our great country in two. Have any of you read it?” Thorliff raised his hand. “Besides Thorliff, that is.” When no other hand went up, he nodded. “Good. We all have a lot to learn.”

“You think it will work?” Mary Martha asked on the ride home.

“I hope to heaven it will, or we will have a mighty tall stack of firewood split for the winter, not that Baptiste and Hamre aren’t making a good start. Maybe I should make one of them a general in the Union Army and the other in the Confederate. Studying battles always catches a boy’s interest.” He turned to his wife and helped her out of the wagon at their front step. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Might spur them on to read more too.” He took her hands and tucked one of them through the crook in his arm as he opened the front door. “See, you bring out the best in me.”