Fervent Charity (24 page)

“Fifteen months.” She got it out quickly before he went on.

“They grow like sprouts, don’t they?”

“They sure do. Would you like some…?”

“What do you think of this weather? Mother thought we should stay home this morning. Isn’t that right, Mother? But I said, Mother, now these children have worked hard all week and a few drops of rain shouldn’t stop them from having a good time and in we came. Isn’t that right, Mother?”

Lena thought that “mother” probably was never really included in any of their conversations except in their retelling.

But Mrs. Vogel did speak. “Sorry to hear about Gertrude, Lena.”

Before Lena could acknowledge her sympathy, Porter interjected, “Fine old pioneer lady. You know I was just saying to Mother that Gertrude Kaiser was one of the last of the original people to settle here, even before Charity was officially a township. Her husband, old Frederick, drilled the first wells for the homesteaders when he came out here…from where?”

“From around Pierre, I believe,” said Lena.

“Yes, she had a lot of sorrows in this life, as we all do. Losing a son and a husband and a sister in the same year. Many sorrows. Now she’s at peace. It’s a blessing.”

“Probably,” said Lena. She eyed his coffee cup. “Warm that up for you?”

“But you children were good to her.”

“We tried.”

“Especially Mary. Now how is Mary, these days? I hear she went east with the oldest Torgerson girl and that Augusta Roemer. They’ve been gone a good while now, haven’t they?”

Lena was getting fidgety. “Have some coffee here before it gets cold now, Porter.”

He held out his cup and then his wife’s. “Thank you, Lena, you know I…”

“Nice talking to you. I’ve got to get this coffee around before I have to go in and heat it up. It’s never as good heated up the second time, you know. You have a good time now,” she directed her last wish to the children who sat quietly around their parents. Lena added a thought,
and try to get away from your father for a few hours at least.

Lena switched the pot to her left hand and moved on. She saw Harlan Gudierian playing cards with some men at the next nearest table. If he waited for Lena to serve him coffee he would die of thirst. She couldn’t help it. She felt sick inside just looking at him.

The next table was populated by Don Grode and his wife and their son who had been born about the same time as Gracia. She hadn’t seen Don since he’d had the stuffing knocked out of him by Skydog. “Hello, Don. Loretta. Can I give you some hot coffee?”

Don shook out the dregs from his cup and held it out. As Lena filled it, she asked, “How’s that shoulder?”

He grinned and rubbed it for emphasis. “It only hurts when I hear a train whistle or a horse whinny.”

Lena laughed sheepishly. “You’ve got a good man here, Loretta. He helped me out that day, I’ll tell you.”

“I know he’s a good man, but it goes to his head if I tell him too often,” Loretta smiled at her husband.

“How’s this little boy?” Lena reached out and patted the head of the chubby child sitting in his mother’s lap. “He sure is handsome. Has his mother’s eyes, doesn’t he?”

The compliments were exchanged about both their youngsters, Don and Loretta expressed their condolences over Gertrude while Lena rested the pot on the table. Then she took it up again and went on her way.

At every table people accepted refills, offered condolences about the death of her mother-in-law and speculations on the weather. Death and the weather—the two staples of conversation out here. The weather was the great equalizer. No one ever got tired of it; it was always changing, and all were subject to its whims. People could remember winters from their childhoods, and the droughts described to them by their grandfathers; they could recall the way the sky looked back in ’68 before THAT hailstorm, and everybody who was old enough would know what they were talking about and add details of their own. Their memories were histories of weather and the good or bad times that resulted.

At the Gunderson table, Maimie Gunderson, a sturdy, red-faced widow who ran her farm with her sons, was no different. “Well it’s hard when the old folks leave us, that’s for sure. Now, when did you lose your ma and pa, Lena?”

People sure did like talking about misery. Especially, other people’s. “Pa passed on when I was sixteen, and Ma died about eight years ago now.”

“Take a look at that sky,” Maimie looked up and launched into all the possibilities inherent in such a sky.

Lena longed to get on with it and with less conversation. The sky was overcast and her mother-in-law was dead. It was enough. She still had about a quarter of the pot left. She saw Nemil Glasrud sitting by himself and she headed over there. “Happy Fourth of July, Nemil. Fill that up for you?”

“Don’t mind if you do, Lena. Thanks.” People made fun of Nemil, still a bachelor in his mid-forties. He cleaned up pretty well, even though you couldn’t say he ever dressed up. He was in his Sunday best shirt and overalls, his shirt pressed and his shoes had a spit polish on them. The worst that could be said about him was that he was homely and didn’t have much to say for himself. For a while, people thought he had his eye on Gustie but she firmly and kindly had put an end to that. He had had his eye on every unmarried female at one time or another, but no one ever was interested in Nemil.

“Well, bye, Nemil. Enjoy yourself today. You going to the dance tonight?”

“Naw, I’ll stay for the fireworks but I gotta lot of work to do. Gotta get home so I can get up early.” Lena supposed he’d given up looking for a wife. She felt sorry for him. “I hear that Ike Thorson is going to get his fiddle out later and Magna Nilsen is going to sing—that is if they ever get that bandstand up.” Hammering could still be heard from the middle of the fairgrounds.

He nodded and smiled and seemed content to say no more.

There wasn’t much coffee left and it was lukewarm so Lena dumped it out.

She spied Leroy unloading a keg. People wouldn’t want more coffee now. They’d likely switch to drinking lemonade and Leroy’s sarsaparilla.

With the empty pot swinging over her arm, Lena wandered over to where they were nailing in the last boards on the bandstand. The men of the city council were there. No doubt they were anxious about getting the bandstand sturdy enough so they could ascend and take their places above the rest of the common citizens of Charity. Behind their backs, these men were often referred to as The Twelve, because they gave themselves airs of the Apostles, or more often, in Lena’s opinion, a jury passing judgments on everyone and everything around them. Except Lester Evenson. He was the one level head in this gaggle of ganders. They were the same twelve as sat on the school boards for the city and the section schools, and the same, excepting Lester, who had fired Gustie. And except for Lester, she didn’t have much use for any of them.

Axel Kranhold nodded in her direction and Sighurd Dahl, a huge-bellied man waved benevolently. She gave him a half-hearted wave back.
Hypocrites,
she hissed to herself.

On her way back to the Bierschback house, Lena passed Kenneth O’Grady setting out a tub of hard candies. “Hi, Kenny,” she said. “I’d offer you some coffee but I’m all out. There’s probably a fresh pot ready if you want me to bring you some.”

“No, I think I’ll have a glass of Leroy’s sarsaparilla.”

“Sounds good,” Lena said. She eyed the colorful candies. They wouldn’t last long, and she popped one into her mouth. “Where’s Morgan?”

“He’s at the baseball game. I gave him the day off.”

Lena moved on and spied a plump woman leaning back in her chair with her feet up on another chair. Someone had just brought her a full plate and a glass of lemonade and she was smiling broadly.

“Hello, Olna! I almost didn’t recognize you without your apron!”

“Hi, Lena. This is the only day of the year I get to eat other people’s cooking. It sure tastes good.”

Betty Torgerson had been her best help. Lena didn’t think she had hired anybody since Betty left. She deserved to put her feet up.

“Well, you enjoy yourself now. I’ll be walking around here. You holler if you need anything.”

“I sure will,” Olna said, her mouth already full of potato salad.

Lillian Bierschback and Ethel Sauer, their houses being closest to the fairgrounds, though some distance apart from each other, had opened their homes for use the whole day. Both families had large ice houses to keep the lemonade and ice cream. Lillian also kept her stove going for a constant supply of coffee. She had the larger kitchen of the two, so Alvinia set up her ice cream making operation there. It was time Lena returned the pot and checked on Gracia.

The sky was overcast, still. The early shower had lightened it somewhat, but the tents and canopy stayed up. Lena, who had a good eye for weather, thought there had been a slight change. “I don’t know. It looks yellow to me. The air, it’s all kind of yellow like. Do you think there’s a twister brewing out there? What do you think, Percy?” Percy Bierschback was keeping a game of checkers afloat in his back yard for anyone he could snag into playing for a few minutes. His current game partner was Barney Fossum who studied the board and ignored the weather. Percy took the toothpick from his mouth, gave the sky a sweeping look. “No. There won’t be a tornado.”

“Why not?” Lena demanded. He was always so blame sure of himself. That was the one thing that got her goat about Percy Bierschback.

“Because there’s no hail. No hail, no twister. That’s the rule. You can count on it. We got a fraidy hole over there if you’re worried.” He pointed the toothpick toward the Bierschback’s storm cellar. “It’s your move, Barney.”

“Don’t rush me, Percy. Don’t rush me,” Barney’s eyes never left the board.

Maybe Percy was right. They’d had sprinkles all morning. Here was another one. She ducked into the house.

Alvinia was cranking the ice cream maker with vigor. Her forehead gleamed with perspiration and she dabbed it off with her apron and continued to crank. “Kermit promised to come by and do the next batch. He’s got younger arms than I do. Then we’ll round up all the boys over ten to do this. They are going to eat most of it. They can do the cranking.”

“Where’s Gracia?”

“In the living room. Kirstin is playing with her and Lavonne is watching them. They’re all right. Sit down for a minute. Speak of the devil.”

Kermit appeared behind Lena with a bag in his hand. His wheat-stalk hair was slicked back and he had on a white shirt and a pair of pants instead of his usual uniform of Carl’s hand-me-down overalls. “Here’s more salt, Ma.”

“Thank you, Son. Just put it down there and remember where it is. You told your friends, and they are all taking turns?”

“Sure, Ma, they’ll be here.”

Alvinia quit cranking and pushed the ice cream maker toward him with her foot. “You can finish this batch. Your mother’s tired. Take it out on the front porch. It’s cooler out there.”

He picked up the tub.

Lena asked, “You need help with that?”

“Nope. I got it.” He lugged the tub to the front of the house.

Alvinia said to Lena, “The coffee’s fresh.”

“Oh, good.” Lena had given everyone a cup of coffee but herself. “Want one?”

“No. I’m going to float away.”

“What happened to Alice?” Lena took her coffee and sat at Lillian’s kitchen table. She reached for the sugar bowl.

“She’s out with Clark. He came in on the train last night and Doc Moody and Edwina put him up for the night. I told her to enjoy herself today. She’s been taking over Betty’s chores. Laverne is pitching in.” Alvinia handed Lena a spoon.

“Your children are all good, Alvinia. Every one of them.”

Alvinia smiled, fully convinced. She fanned herself with a dish towel. “Will still at the funeral home?”

Lena nodded. “I told him he better go if he wanted to see his mother buried decently.” Lena put a spoonful of sugar in her mouth and followed it with a sip of coffee. “Oscar would be too cheap to buy her anything more than a pine box, and he would lower her into the ground without an aye, yes or no. And Walter without Mary is useless.”

Alvinia looked casually through the door to the next room. It seemed they were the only adults in the house. The children in the living room were all noisily involved in a game of some sort. She lowered her voice. “What’s Walter going to do? Has he said?”

“No. And I haven’t asked him. I don’t know why he doesn’t just divorce her. She told him in her letter she isn’t coming back. It’s like he hasn’t taken it in.” She paused a moment to reflect. “We can never tell anybody where she is, you know that, don’t you Alvinia?”

“Well, yes, we all…”

“I mean, Walter is not a Kaiser for nothing. They are a mean bunch. I don’t know if he is planning something…”

“What could he be planning?” Alvinia stopped fanning.

“Maybe nothing. Sometimes he seems too dumb to plan his next cigar, but I’m telling you…the Kaisers have a mean streak…and I know it’s in Will too, but only when he’s drunk. I’ve never seen a speck of meanness in him when he’s sober. But those others. The whole family, every last one of them, had a meanness that would just curl your toes. And Walter is a Kaiser. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Enough said, then.” Alvinia couldn’t sit idle for long. She went back to her work at the stove, breaking eggs into a pan, adding cream and sugar to mix up the custard for the next batch of ice cream. “Do you think Mary will stay in Philadelphia?”

“Where else has she got to go? Gustie’s people will take care of her, and they’ve got the money to do it. Seems odd like, Gustie leaving her own family like she did, doesn’t it?”

“She never told you why?”

Lena just shook her head.

“Well, you never know what happens in families, Lena.”

“You said a mouthful! What do you hear from Betty?” Lena sipped more coffee, this time without sugar.

“Oh, the usual. She’s…” Alvinia stirred her custard and turned away from Lena.

“She’ll be home soon.” Lena knew that Alvinia missed her oldest daughter something fierce—more than she missed Severn. It was only natural. The first born. The oldest girl. The one who had been going along with Alvinia on her mid-wifery since she was a youngster. “Then you’ll be planning a wedding.”