More Than a Dream (20 page)
‘‘Ah, Ingeborg, how can I thank you. The house hasn’t been this peaceful since, well, since the accident.’’
‘‘I have an idea. Why don’t I take May home with me for a couple of days and you give Robbie just a couple of drops from the brown bottle, again mixed with water and honey. Not enough to put him to sleep, but perhaps that will calm him down. And we’ll ask everyone to pray for all of you.’’
‘‘Thank you.’’ Betty looked around her home. ‘‘Thank-you seems so little for what all you did.’’
‘‘Someday you’ll do something good for someone else. That’s just the way things are. Now, do you mind if I take May with me?’’
‘‘If’n you want. I hate to be a burden, though.’’
‘‘Astrid will love having her. I’ll see if I can find someone to come weed for you.’’
‘‘The mister will be much obliged too. He’s been feeling bad because he has no time to help me. You really think the medicine will help our boy?’’
‘‘I certainly hope so. I’d best be going.’’ Ingeborg picked up her basket. ‘‘I’ll check back in a day or two.’’
Funny, she thought on the way home while dandling the child on her knee and holding the reins with one hand, when things get hard, some pull into their shells like turtles and hide, while others work themselves to exhaustion. Either way, we cut ourselves off from the comfort and healing the almighty God wishes to bestow on us through others. She hugged the squirming and whimpering child closer to her chest.
‘‘Mama . . .’’
‘‘I know, baby, I know.’’
‘‘Ma, where you been all this time?’’ Astrid came running to meet her when she whoa’d the horse in their own yard.
‘‘I told you I was going to the Nordstrums’.’’ Ingeborg handed the child to Astrid. ‘‘May is going to be staying with us for a few days. Her mama’s got her hands full with the others.’’
‘‘Can she walk?’’
‘‘Of course, but hold her for a while. She needs a bit of comforting, being separated from her family and all.’’
‘‘Andrew brought home a string of fish. He’s out scaling them now. I started new potatoes for supper and thought we’d cream them along with the last of the peas. Sure would be good if we had ham to go with that.’’
‘‘Astrid, you are truly a gift from God. You play with her while I go put the horse away. Don’t want to stop the fish scaler.’’
Ingeborg had just started up the stairs to the house when she heard pounding hooves and a ‘‘halloo.’’ Only an emergency would bring someone on a hard gallop like that.
‘‘It’s Mira. She’s bleeding bad.’’ Abe Mendohlson fought to slow his runaway fear, but his stuttering speech gave him away.
‘‘Where is she?’’
‘‘Home. Here, you take my horse, and I’ll hitch up the buggy and bring it to you.’’ He swung to the ground, ready to give her a hand up.
‘‘I need my medicines.’’ Ingeborg looked to the house to see Astrid, child on her hip, bringing out the basket with her medical supplies. ‘‘Is there any laudanum in there?’’
Astrid checked, ran back into the house with May clinging to her neck only to rush out again. ‘‘There is now.’’
‘‘Thank you.’’
‘‘Please hurry.’’ Abe threw Ingeborg aboard the horse and ran to meet Astrid, meeting her at the bottom of the steps and grabbing the supplies.
‘‘Is anyone with her?’’ Ingeborg bent down with her arm outstretched and kicked the horse forward.
‘‘Anji was on her way.’’ Abe thrust the basket at her.
Without bothering to arrange her bunched-up skirts, Ingeborg clapped her legs against the horse’s sides and tore back down the lane. If only there weren’t so many fences, she could have gotten there more quickly across the fields.
‘‘God, please slow the bleeding, put your hand on her, take away the fear.’’
I didn’t even ask what started the bleeding. Is she in labor?
Ingeborg knew the consequences of horrendous bleeding and labor this soon. Mira wasn’t due until sometime in August. And here it was only mid-July. What had happened to bring this on? The horse was heaving and throwing foam by the time Ingeborg stopped at the Mendohlsons’ soddy.
Anji met her at the door. ‘‘I tried to pack her to stop the bleeding, but it’s no use.’’
‘‘Is she having contractions?’’ Ingeborg spoke over her shoulder, losing no time in getting to the bed.
‘‘Yes. Almost continuous.’’
Ingeborg sucked in a breath at the bloody bed, the gown, Mira’s face so white she could see the blue lines of veins.
‘‘Ingeborg, I . . . I knew you would c-come.’’ Her voice was as faint as her hands were clammy. Pain tied her in a knot again and rolled through, leaving her limp as a used scrub rag.
Ingeborg laid her hands on the belly that should have been distended but only showed a mound. ‘‘Lord God, please, we have no way to turn but to you. Help us, Father, help us.’’ She looked over her shoulder to Anji. ‘‘Help brace her with your back to the wall. She can hang on to your hands. If we can get this baby born, perhaps we can stanch the bleeding.’’
‘‘Too soon. Too soon.’’ Mira shrieked with another spasm, the sound trailing off in a whimper. ‘‘Too soon.’’
‘‘What happened? Do you know?’’ Ingeborg asked Anji.
‘‘No, and Abe was going so fast I couldn’t hear what he said. Just came as quick as I could.’’ Anji settled herself at the head of the bed and stroked back Mira’s hair with gentle hands. ‘‘Do you think. . . ?’’ Tears flooded her eyes before she could continue. She sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Laying her cheek on top of Mira’s head, she murmured gently. When the Mendohlsons had come to the Baards’ to help out when her pa was so sick, Anji and Mira had become good friends.
Keeping one ear for the sound of the buggy, Ingeborg encouraged the struggling woman through another contraction, this one weaker than the last.
God, where are you? Are you listening? What
can I do?
She thought of the laudanum in her basket, but while that might deaden the pain, they had to get this baby born before its mother bled to death.
At least bring her husband back quickly. She needs him. That
might give her the strength to go on
. While the thoughts raced through her mind, Ingeborg continued her gentle ministrations. She dampened a cloth and wiped the sweat from the pale forehead, all the while murmuring encouragement.
Mrs. Mendohlson breathed her last just as her husband burst through the door. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and grasped his wife’s hands. ‘‘Try, Mira, try. Please . . .’’ He looked over his shoulder to Ingeborg. ‘‘She . . . she isn’t. . . ?’’
Ingeborg nodded. ‘‘She’s gone home.’’
‘‘Oh . . . oh . . .’’ He put his big hands on both sides of his wife’s face. ‘‘Mira, please, hear me, Mira.’’
Ingeborg laid a hand on his shoulder and motioned to Anji, who was now sobbing also, to move away from the bed. The two of them went outside, leaving the poor man to his sorrow.
‘‘He didn’t even get to say good . . . good-bye.’’ Anji turned into Ingeborg’s arms, and the two of them cried together.
‘‘She was so young, not even as old as me.’’
‘‘I know.’’ Ingeborg patted her back. ‘‘These two have not had it easy, that’s for sure. And now he has to raise his children alone.’’ Ingeborg glanced around, for the first time realizing the two were not there.
‘‘Becky took them home to our house. Ossie would hardly leave, crying and wanting his ma, and Julia clung to her ma with both fists.’’
‘‘Poor little ones.’’ Ingeborg took in a deep breath and, with her arms around Anji, stared out across the fields. Such a high price this land extracted, bleeding some of the farmers dry until they either succumbed to sickness or left for what they hoped would be a better place.
‘‘Come, let us wash up, then after a bit we’ll go clean up in there.’’ They walked arm in arm to the well and let the wooden bucket down into the depths. After cranking a full one up, Ingeborg filled the dipper that hung on one of the wooden supports and handed it to Anji to drink first.
If things had gone differently, Anji would have been her new daughter by now, or they would have been planning the wedding and making things for her new home. Hers and Thorliff’s. In spite of the hurts caused by the two of them going different ways, Ingeborg knew she still loved this young woman, that Anji would always have a special place in her heart, if for no other reason than Anji was the daughter of her best friend. At the thought of Agnes, gone home what seemed like such a long time ago or just yesterday, Ingeborg’s eyes filled again.
Lord, sometimes life is just too hard
to bear
.
I will never leave you nor forsake you
. The answer came quickly.
I know that, and on days like today you are the only one I can
cling to
. She stared off to the west, where gray clouds that threatened more rain blocked the stars arching above them.
No rain,
please, Lord. So many of the grass fields are cut and drying for hay.
Before we prayed for rain and rejoiced when it came. Now we pray
for you to withhold it
. She dipped the edge of her apron into the water and wiped her face. So cool, so welcome, and poor Mrs. Mendohlson would never feel it again. Closing her eyes, Ingeborg repeated some of her verses.
‘‘I can do all things through Christ
which strengtheneth me.’’ ‘‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for
ever.’’ Lord, being with you has to be so much better than being here
.
‘‘He’s come out now.’’ Anji touched her arm.
Ingeborg sniffed back another freshet of tears and blew her nose. ‘‘If you want to go on home, I can manage here.’’
‘‘No, I’ll stay to help. That’s what Ma would want me to do.’’
‘‘I . . . I have to do the chores,’’ Abe said, joining them outdoors. He braced himself against the soddy wall as if his legs could no longer hold him up.
‘‘Ja, that will be good.’’
‘‘I’ll let Pastor Solberg know.’’ Ingeborg put a hand on his shoulder.
‘‘Thank you.’’ He took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his face. ‘‘It’s all my fault.’’
‘‘What is all your fault?’’ Dreading the answer, the women waited.
‘‘I asked her to help me with the beam for the new granary. I had it all braced, all she . . . she had to do was hold it in place, you know? So simple. Then something happened, and it slipped and fell and knocked her over. She screamed, and I . . . I helped her into the house. She was all doubled over in pain.’’ Tears streamed down his face. ‘‘It was all my fault.’’ He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if holding it up would never again be possible. ‘‘So you see, if I had gone for Swen or Knute to help me, Mira would still be here. She’d be making supper and laughing with Ossie and Julia, and I would come in with a full bucket of milk, and she would say, ‘Supper is ready.’ ’’ He stopped and stared out across the land, shaking his head slowly, as if even that were too heavy.
‘‘I will go get one of my brothers to help.’’ Anji looked from the man to Ingeborg, who was also shaking her head.
‘‘Taking care of his animals is a good thing right now.’’ She patted Abe’s hand again. ‘‘You go and bring in the cows.’’ She spoke as if he were a small boy needing instructions. He nodded and plodded across the yard, stumbling and nearly falling to his knees before righting himself and finally leaning against the barn wall.
‘‘I know how he feels.’’ Anji’s eyes swam with tears that glittered in the sun now slanting through the clouds. ‘‘It’s too heavy. The burden is just too heavy.’’
‘‘I know. I know.’’ Ingeborg turned and paused in the doorway, forcing herself to go in and begin the final gift she could give this family.
When Anji and Ingeborg had bathed the body and dressed her again in her best dress, they set the sheets and things to soak in cold water and laid out bread and sliced meat for a simple supper. Then closing the door, they set Ingeborg’s basket in the buggy, and Anji climbed in while Ingeborg bridled the horse.
‘‘The funeral will be tomorrow?’’
‘‘Most likely.’’
‘‘I could have Gus go tell Pastor Solberg. That way you could go on home.’’
