The Reaper's Song (14 page)

Ingeborg shook her head. “I am standing perfectly still. And if you need help to sit up, how can you walk to the barn, how can you even pull on your pants?”

“Would a dipper of water be too much to ask?” Haakan groaned when he tried again to roll to his side.

“No, I’ll get it, but only if you promise you won’t try to get up while I’m gone.”

He muttered something under his breath.

Ingeborg took it to be agreement and headed for the bucket of
water in the kitchen that she’d already fetched from the well. She’d just filled the dipper when she heard a thump that sounded like—

She dropped the dipper back in the bucket and flew to the bedroom. She wanted to be with Andrew in case he woke, yet Haakan needed her too.

Haakan lay sprawled on the floor by the bed, his silence frightening her as much as Andrew’s did.

She knelt at his side and laid a hand against his cheek. Hot. Burning hot. She smoothed the swelling in his neck and sighed in relief when he groaned.

“Got . . . to . . . get . . . to . . . the . . . barn.” Each word took its toll, she could see by the white lines deepening around his eyes and bracketing his mouth.

“No, and now we have to get you back in bed. Can you help me?” She could hear Goodie come in the back door.

Haakan only groaned. “Water?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “If you had stayed in bed like I asked, you’d have had your drink by now. I dropped it when I heard you fall.”

She felt a presence beside her and looked over her shoulder to find Metiz staring at the fallen man.

“Him bad.”

“That is for sure. Would you please go ask Lars to come help me get him back in bed?”

“We do it.”

“Is something wrong?” Goodie asked from the doorway but knelt at Haakan’s side without waiting for an answer. “Oh, land, the mumps. He has them too.” She shook her head. “Why couldn’t he get ’em as a boy like the rest of them?”

Ingeborg nodded but without answering, knowing Goodie didn’t expect an answer. “We’ve got to get him back in the bed.”

“You want I should call the boys?”

Haakan groaned. “No, I don’t want them to . . .”

“I know, man’s pride.” Goodie shook her head. She rocked back on her heels. “Way I see it, I take one arm, you t’other, and Metiz brace him from behind. Your legs got any strength a’tall?”

“They will.” He spoke from gritted teeth.

The three women took their places.

“Now, on three?” Ingeborg looked each of them in the eye. “One, two, three.” With that they got their shoulders under his arms and hoisted him to a sitting position.

He bit off a cry, his teeth clenched so tightly they could hear them grinding. His jaw whitened. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Haakan, can you push with your legs?”

“D-don’t . . . kn-know.”

Ingeborg looked at Metiz, asking the question silently that she couldn’t ask aloud.
Why is he in such pain? Where is it coming from?

Metiz shrugged. “Lift now.”

Like beaching a wounded sea lion, they half rolled, half lifted him onto the bed.

As if they had a mind of their own, his hands went to cover his private parts.

Metiz and Goodie stepped back, offering him some privacy.

“Haakan.” Ingeborg leaned close to his ear. “Is that where the pain is?”

He nodded. She wiped the sweat from his forehead, using the brief moment to try to understand. She knew he had the mumps. His swollen face and neck attested to that. But this other?

Goodie beckoned her from the doorway.

“I’ll get you that water now,” Ingeborg said as she turned to follow the other woman.

Once in the kitchen, Goodie spoke in a low voice. “I seen this before. When a grown man gets the mumps, it seems to settle in their privates. ’Tis terrible painful. Swelling like a . . . a . . .” She shook her head. “Terrible. They can’t hardly pass water either. Your man is in for a bad time.”

Ingeborg rubbed her forehead. How to help Haakan? “And Andrew, how is he?”

“Same.” Metiz joined them. “Ellie still asleep at foot of bed.”

Ingeborg could hear the cows bellering as they made their way to the barn. Either Lars or the boys had gone to get them. She glanced out the kitchen window. The lightening sky outlined the treetops that formed their eastern horizon along the river. By now the milking should be half finished, breakfast nearly ready, and the bread set for rising.

None of it was started, let alone done.

“Goodie, would you please go tell Lars what is happening? Metiz, if you would take the dipper of water to Haakan?” At their nods, she turned for the stairs. “I have to see how Andrew is.”

As the others went about their assigned tasks, she climbed the stairs with a heart so heavy she could barely lift her feet. The old thought
What am I being punished for now?
made her stumble on the
top step. She knew if she turned, she would find the black pit yawning in the stairwell behind her. How she’d prayed during the long vigil at Andrew’s side that the morning would bring a flutter of eyelids to her son’s still face and his usual first words of the day, “I’m hungry, Mor.” Andrew—always hungry, always moving—lay so still now. She forced herself to move close to the bed so she could see his chest rise.

“God, I felt so sure this would be the morning,” she whispered.

The day’s not over yet
. She wasn’t sure if she’d heard a voice, or if it was just a strong impression in her mind. She could have sworn she heard the black pit snap shut, as if angry at being overcome again.

Kneeling on the floor at Andrew’s side, she laid her forehead on her clasped hands.
“ . . . but with the trial will provide a way of escape that you might not fall into despair.”
That verse and others rolled through her mind like a warm rain washing the dust from the air and leaves.

“Mange takk, heavenly Father,” she whispered. No other words could slip past the tears rising in her throat and burning at the back of her eyes. But in her mind, she shot praises heavenward, basking in the peace that saturated the room and her soul.

In spite of the sadness of seeing her son so still, Andrew’s room became a haven from the turmoil of caring for Haakan and trying to do her other chores at the same time. The cheese she’d planned to start that day still sat in the milk pans waiting. She could have watched the beans grow had she had time to go near the garden.

Thank God for Goodie, who made and baked the bread, cooked the meals, and made sure Andrew’s chores were taken over by Hans.

“We really should start harvesting those wheat fields closest to the house,” Lars said after supper. “Maybe I better talk to Baard and get going on it.”

“I thought you planned to wait until after the house-raising?” Ingeborg and Lars were sitting on the back stoop, where they could catch a bit of the evening breeze.

“We did, but it’s been so dry the wheat is ripening faster than I thought it would. We could get a hailstorm any day and knock it all down, you know.”

“I do know. But . . .” She fell silent, watching the sun paint a silver lining around the tops of the dark clouds on the horizon.

“It could be some time before Haakan is on his feet again.” Lars stared at his hands, loosely clasped between his knees.

“I know.”
What if those clouds dump hail on us tonight?
“Every day is so precious. You could start with the cutting in the morning. You think Thorliff or Baptiste could drive the horses while you keep the binder running?”

Lars nodded thoughtfully. “Could be. Baptiste, he is better with the horses. He don’t go off in a daydream somewhere.”

“Thorliff will have to run the trotlines then, besides taking the sheep out to graze.”

“They were a big help in the barn this morning, not that they always aren’t, but both Baptiste and Thorliff milk almost as good as a man now.”

“I could take the team up to backset that last sod cutting.” The words came before she had time to think.

“Now, Inge, you agreed to no more working the fields, remember? It just ain’t seemly no more.”

“Not that it ever was—seemly, that is. Just necessary.” Her mind skipped back to the hours of soul-crushing labor, breaking the sod with a walking plow behind the oxen. “With the new riding plow it is much easier.”

“Ja. And between you and Kaaren, you already do the work of three women.”

“Add Goodie and we make five.”

“Pert near.” He turned his head enough to smile at her over his shoulder. “I know Haakan will get out of that bed no matter what if you put on britches again and go back in the fields.”

“Ja, well . . .”

“I got to git on home. I’ll go tell Haakan what I—we decided.”

“If he’s awake.”

“Ja, that too.” Lars stood and stretched his arms over his head. “You planning on a trip to the Bonanza farm anytime soon?”

“I was, but now?” She shrugged. “Those chickens will just have to get bigger. Leastways they won’t spoil. Penny is selling a lot of our cheese, so I don’t have much of that to take.”

She turned her head at the sounds of pounding feet in the house.

“Mrs. Bjorklund, come quick. You know, Andrew. . .”

Ingeborg leaped to her feet.
Dear Lord, now what?

I
ngeborg almost ran Goodie down in her haste to climb the stairs. She could hear Ellie babbling, but the words failed to penetrate the wall of her mind. “Please, God, please,” she pleaded with each step.

She burst through the curtained doorway.

Ellie danced beside the bed. “See. I told you.”

Ingeborg stopped as if she’d hit an ice wall.

Andrew blinked and smiled a sleepy smile. “Mor, I’m hungry.”

With tears streaming down her face, Ingeborg fell on her knees beside the bed and she cupped a hand around his cheek.

“Why are you crying?” Andrew turned to look at her. “You sad?”

She shook her head, taking his hand in hers and kissing his palm. “No, Andrew, I am not sad at all. I am just so happy.”

He gave her that look that said you-don’t-make-sense-but-I-guess-it’s-all-right. He’d learned it from his father, as did all boys.

Metiz and Goodie pushed aside the curtain and entered the room.

“See, Ma, I wasn’t telling a story. Andrew’s awake.” Ellie turned to her mother.

“Hush, I can see.” Goodie took the few steps to lay a hand on Ingeborg’s shoulder. “I should think our boy wants something to eat. I can warm up the leftovers from supper.” She looked over at Andrew. “Or would you rather have bread and cheese with a glass of milk?”

“Ja.”

“Both?”

Andrew nodded. “I am
really
hungry.” He started to sit up but blinked in surprise when his body didn’t do what his mind said. He
blinked a couple of times and then fell back. “My head hurts.”

“You fell on it, out of the haymow.” Ellie climbed up on the bed to be nearer her friend. “You been asleep for . . .” She scrunched up her eyes trying to figure out how long, then shook her head. “Long time. Too long.” She held out an arm that sported a red scratch. “See, that rooster got me when I tried to pick the eggs. You gonna bash him for me?”

Andrew nodded. “But I gotta eat first.”

Goodie laughed. “Ain’t that just like our boy?” She turned and headed down the stairs, chuckling to herself.

“Oh, I must tell Haakan.” Ingeborg braced her hands on the mattress to rise.

“I go.” Metiz melted out of the room, the swish of the swinging curtain the only sound.

“I tole ’em you was gonna get better.” Ellie sat cross-legged on the bed beside Andrew, her elbows propped on her knees, chin on hands. “Why’d you sleep so long?”

“Did I?” Andrew looked from his mother’s face to Ellie’s.

They both nodded.

“My ma says you was lucky you didn’t break your fool neck.” The girl shook her head. “She whupped me for playing in the haymow.”

A frown wrinkled Andrew’s pale brow. “But why? We always play in the haymow. That’s our best place.”

Another headshake. “She says she hopes we learned our lesson. You gonna play in the haymow again?”

Andrew yawned and blinked his eyes. “I’m still sleepy.” He reached for Ellie’s hand. “I’ll talk to your ma about the haymow after I eat.”

When Goodie pushed open the curtain, Andrew lay sound asleep again.

“He okay?” She set the tray down on the chair beside the bed.

“He’s sleeping regular now, not like before.” Ingeborg motioned for Ellie to come sit in her lap. “You took good care of our boy, child. You’re the kind of friend the Bible talks about. ‘A friend loveth at all times,’ it says.”

“Andrew’s my bestest friend in the whole world.” She turned to study Ingeborg’s eyes. “He coulda died, huh?” At Ingeborg’s brief nod, the little girl looked back at Andrew. “My fault.”

“Oh no, Ellie, it wasn’t your fault.” Ingeborg hugged the stalk-thin body closer. “You didn’t
push
Andrew out of the haymow, did
you?” When the little girl shook her head, near-white hair as fine as corn silk tickled Ingeborg’s chin. “It was an accident,” she assured the child, “and accidents just happen sometimes.”

“’Twouldn’t a happened if you hadn’t been playing in the haymow,” Goodie said with a sigh. “Young’uns just seem to have to climb and slide and play in high places. Me’n my brother loved to climb trees. Back in Ohio there were trees to climb in everybody’s yard. He fell out of one and broke his arm. Hurt something awful. I never climbed those trees again, let me tell you. And I couldn’t sit down for a week from the lickin’ I got from my ma. She’d warned us, just like I warned you.”