“You’ll see what we mean when we get there. You ever used a hammer and saw before?”
“Only on the fencing.” Pounding in staples took a different skill than nails, as he’d learned at Andrew’s.
“Make sure you bring your leather gloves.” Haakan held up his cup for a refill. “We’ll go on ahead, and the women will bring dinner in by noon. Astrid, are you and Grace the water girls today?”
“Most likely.” Astrid turned from the dishpan on the stove. “We’ll come in an hour or two.”
“Don’t forget that tomorrow is the farewell for Penny and Hjelmer at church.” Ingeborg set the coffeepot back on the stove. “This surely is a busy time.”
“I don’t want Penny to leave.” Astrid dumped a plate in the rinse water with enough force to cause a splash that spread across the stove, steaming and sizzling as it hit the hot part.
“No one does.” Ingeborg’s voice thickened.
Jonathan glanced up to see Haakan’s jaw tighten. None of the Bjorklunds had been happy with the precipitous sale of the store to an outside buyer. There had been some rather heated discussions around this kitchen table, but Penny said the deal was done and that was that.
When Andrew drove up in the wagon with the Knutsons, Haakan and Jonathan tossed their tools in and joined the others. Other wagons arrived at the same time they did, and the older men moved from stack to stack of lumber, checking supplies against the manifest, the instructions, and the plans. Within a few minutes, the assignments had been made and Jonathan joined a crew of Haakan, Pastor Solberg, Gus Baard, and Samuel to begin laying the floor joists across the basement.
As soon as Astrid and Grace arrived, they called for a coffee break, serving both hot coffee and lemonade. The men and boys gathered around, joking about which was the slowest team.
The sun beat down as the walls went up. Jonathan handed the proper lumber to those on his team and pounded a few nails into place. At least he could usually drive a nail in straight with four slams now, not like Haakan with three and sometimes two. Milking cows and moving milk cans had vastly strengthened his arm and back muscles, so this work wasn’t as miserable as his first.
They had the first floor framed in by noon, including some of the lower siding.
Jonathan observed Grace watching someone during dinner. When he realized she was surreptitiously observing Toby Valders, he felt a stab in his heart. Was this the reason she didn’t seem interested in him?
Oh, Grace, please …
He wasn’t sure what he was asking Grace for, since he was in no position to ask her for anything, but his reaction caught him by surprise. He was concerned too, based on what he’d heard of the other man. He thought Grace deserved someone more caring. Toby Valders was so busy talking with the men around him that he was paying her no attention whatever. Toby accepted a piece of the cake that Rebecca was scooping out onto offered plates, laughing up at her and making her cheeks blush rosy.
Grace slumped for a moment then straightened her spine and turned to say something to the woman beside her.
Jonathan mentally applauded her spunk. If she wasn’t sitting between two women, he’d have gone over there and sat down beside her. When Haakan called for the work force to get back to the house, he stood and pulled his leather gloves back on. Settling his hat securely in place, he joined his team members.
Astrid carried on a continuing banter with the workers that afternoon while she passed dippers of water up to the second floor of the house. Jonathan nailed siding on the wall his team was finishing, accepting the drinks that came by but always looking for Grace.
“She went over to see Sophie for a bit,” Astrid said while she waited for him to finish with the dipper.
Jonathan knew it wasn’t sunburn heating the back of his neck.
Am
I that obvious?
He handed back the dipper. Should he ask Astrid? Why not? “Does Toby … I mean is he … or she”—He rolled his eyes. “I mean …”
“She and Toby have been friends since school days.”
“But …”
“Hey, Gould, would you bring me that saw?”
He turned back. Now wasn’t the time to even be thinking like that. Giving Astrid a thank-you nod, he did as he was asked.
After a cold drink break midafternoon, which Grace helped serve, two teams moved to the roof, using pulleys to hoist the rafters up to the workers.
Jonathan paused to watch one long two-by-six rise in the air. Grace walked underneath it, her bucket and dipper in hand. The rope snapped, someone shouted, and Jonathan dove at Grace, knocking her to the ground, shielding her with his body. The end of the wood slapped across his back and glanced off his head before clattering to the ground. Dizzy from the blow to his head, he rolled to the side.
“Are you all right?” Haakan knelt beside him.
“H-how’s Grace?”
“She’s all right—a bit mussed but not injured, thanks to your quick action. Thank God some other wood broke part of the force or you could be—”
“Seriously hurt.” Pastor Solberg finished the sentence from the other side of Jonathan.
Haakan probed the back of Jonathan’s head with gentle fingers. “You’re going to have a big knot, but I think your hat protected you. There’s no blood.”
“Maybe we better have Dr. Elizabeth look at him.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Jonathan accepted a hand that reached down to pull him up, but when he moved, pain shot through his shoulder. “I better do it myself.”
Haakan stood and eased an arm about the young man’s waist. “Let’s do this real easylike.” When they both stood upright, a cheer went up from those around them. “Let’s get you on a bench. Astrid, bring the water bucket.”
Jonathan looked to find Grace. She stared at him, her face as white as the apron had been before he sent her crashing into the dirt. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her fingers flashing signs that he couldn’t begin to interpret. She stopped, sucked in a deep breath, and said, “Thank you.” Her focus flew to the pulley overhead and back to the piece of wood, then to him. She turned to her father standing right beside and burst into tears.
“If that hit her in the head, it mighta killed her,” one of the other men commented.
Jonathan wanted to take her in his arms himself, but when he took a step toward her, he staggered.
“Come on, let’s get you sitting back down. You dizzy or nauseous?”
“Some.” He twisted his shoulders and winced at the pain in the right one. He clenched his fingers and moved his arm; all seemed in working order. Haakan on one side and Pastor Solberg on the other, they walked him to the closest bench and sat him down.
Astrid held out the dipper of water. “You sure were fast.”
Seeing there was nothing more they could do, the rest of the crew went back to work on the house.
“Astrid, is there any ice here?” Haakan asked.
“There would be some at the boardinghouse. The ice we put in the lemonade is all melted.”
Haakan glanced around and beckoned to one of the younger boys. “Go over to the boardinghouse and bring back some ice in a wet dish towel. Run, now.”
He scurried off.
Jonathan rested his head in his hands, wishing the drummer inside would cease and desist. His back ached but not the stabbing pain of before. His knee must have slammed into a piece of wood, or else the ground was rock hard, for it pulsed too. He felt like throwing up, but another drink of water helped settle his stomach.
“I’m all right. I’ll just sit here a bit, and then I’ll be back.”
Grace
might have been killed there.
The thought beat worse than the pain. She hadn’t heard the shout.
She shouldn’t be in a dangerous place like
this
. He opened his eyes when he felt someone lay something against the back of his head.
“Just sit still and I’ll hold this in place.”
Pastor Solberg stood behind him, his voice as gentle as the one in Jonathan’s head was strident.
“Hurt?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cold penetrating does that. Feels worse before it feels better. Doesn’t feel like your skull is cracked, however.”
“My father always says I have a hard head.”
“Good thing. Thank God this wasn’t any worse.”
Jonathan forced himself to think of something besides the burning at the back of his head. Grace, was she hurt and they weren’t telling him? After all, he’d slammed her into the same hard ground that had bruised his knee. He gave a sigh of relief when the ice pack was lifted from his head and flinched when it was returned.
Staring at the ground, he heard someone walk up and saw the hem of a skirt enter his line of vision. Trying to roll his eyes to see higher wrinkled his forehead, which wrinkled the skin on his head, which made the wound hurt more.
“Have you ever had a big knot on your head before?” Dr. Elizabeth owned the skirt.
He started to shake his head and then answered instead. “No.”
“I’m going to look at it. It includes some probing, and it will hurt.”
What could he say? No, I’m chicken? Instead he said nothing, just held his head more firmly. She was right; it did hurt but not unbearably. When she finished he let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“All right, now let me look at your eyes. If you have a concussion or skull damage, it can show up there.”
He raised his head to see her smile and stare first into one eye and then the other.
“Looks good. I would say both you and Grace were protected by your guardian angels today.”
“I guess.”
“Anything else hurting?”
“My back, especially the right shoulder.” He didn’t bother to mention his knee.
She moved behind him. “No bleeding. Do you mind taking your shirt off this shoulder?”
He did as she said and flinched again as she palpitated his shoulder.
“You have an abrasion here, but I don’t think anything is broken. Can you move your shoulder? Good. Now make a fist. Excellent.”
She stepped around in front of him. “Pastor, why don’t you move what’s left of that ice pack to his shoulder. Good. Now, Mr. Gould, you are welcome to come over to the surgery and lie down for a while if you like. It might help the headache.”
“Can’t I go back to work on the house?”
“You won’t be able to wear your hat. And if you get dizzy, you could get hurt worse.”
How embarrassing.
“They’re going to be stopping soon, at least those that have to go milk cows, and then we’ll all be back here for supper and the party.”
A wave of weariness deluged him. All of a sudden the only thing he could think of was lying down. He looked up to see her studying him.
“Come with me.” She reached out a hand. “We’ll walk slowly.”
Once in her surgery he collapsed on the bed and was asleep before he had time to thank her.
When he opened his eyes again, dusk softened the room. He slowly lifted his head from the pillow, where he’d been lying face down, since the back of his head sported the most obvious of his wounds, and winced at the pain in his shoulder. But other than a dull ache, the timpani player inside his head had gone home and taken his instrument with him. Even more slowly he rolled over so he could sit up on the edge of the bed. His boots sat by the wall, so someone had been in to help him. The last he could remember was the walk that took forever from the new house to the doctor’s house, him leaning more on her shoulder than he’d wanted.
Since the drum was no longer playing, he could hear music floating in on the same breeze that lifted the sheer curtains. The party had begun. Which meant he’d missed chores—a definite mark against him. He glanced around the room to see a note propped against the water pitcher on the washstand and slowly stood to reach it. When he saw the water, he immediately realized he suffered from a raging thirst. After guzzling a glass of water, he unfolded the paper and read,
We are all at the party. If you would like supper, Thelma will fix a plate
for you. If you would rather just sleep on through the night, that is probably
the best. I expect you still have a fierce headache
.
He gingerly felt around the swelling on the back of his head, wincing as he did so. Using his left arm eased the pain in the back of his right shoulder. That timber must have whacked him on both head and shoulder. Gratitude that it didn’t hit him in the neck knocked him back down to sit on the edge of the bed.
I could have been killed.
Grace … Grace is all right too
. He thought back to the accident. He’d just acted instinctively, not pausing for a moment’s thought. All because she couldn’t hear that shout when the rope started to go. The miracle? She’d not been hurt before. She must always be in places that could be dangerous, living on a farm.
She needs me to take care of her
. Where had that thought come from? But wasn’t that what love did, take care of the beloved?
My
beloved
. He wrapped his tongue around the idea and spoke the words softly into the deepening dusk. “Grace, my beloved. I am in love with Grace Knutson.” Something started in his toes and worked its way upward, swelling as it surged. It paused at his heart, gathered more warmth, and swirled around his head before slipping out on another whisper. “Grace, such a perfect name for the most gallant young woman I’ve ever met. I came to Blessing for this purpose, to love Grace and spend my lifetime showing her how much.” Lifetime. That meant marriage. Would Grace be willing to leave Blessing and move to New York? Or could he come back to Blessing?
As he pulled on his boots, another thought hit him, this one not nearly as pleasurable. He couldn’t say a thing to Grace without first getting her father’s permission to court her. And he couldn’t do that without talking with his own father first. A four-year-long courtship while he attended college was not unheard of. But what would his mother say? Bending over to tie his boots made him so dizzy he nearly fell headfirst onto the floor. His stomach roiled, hot and violent. Closing his eyes, he tried putting his head between his knees, but that was only worse. Slowly, carefully, he eased his foot out of the boot and lowered himself to lie on his side, bringing his feet up to join the rest of him on the bed.