More Than a Dream (21 page)

‘‘Mange takk, that would help so much. I spent all afternoon helping the Nordstrums. She is not doing well, so one of her little ones is at our house.’’

‘‘Is something wrong with Robbie?’’

‘‘Ja.’’ Ingeborg explained what had happened.

‘‘Losing Ma was the worst thing that has happened to me, but when one of your babies nearly dies, and then this . . .’’ Anji wiped her eyes again.

‘‘Ja, that is worse.’’
I have done both, and I know. I have comforted
others, closed dying eyes, and sometimes the pit yawns before
me, but . . .
She sighed and looked to Anji. ‘‘This life is hard, but the next one will make up for it.’’

‘‘Are you sure?’’

‘‘Ja, of that I am sure, and I know to the very bottom of my heart that our Father will not let us go. He is always right here.’’ She laid a hand on her chest. ‘‘That is the one thing, perhaps the only thing, that I know for absolutely certain sure never changes.’’

‘‘Thank you. I hope I can be as sure of that one day.’’

‘‘You can. Your ma was. She told me how she was looking forward to heaven those last months. She had her eyes set on that one prize, and to know that, one must read and believe God’s Word. All her life, Agnes did just that, and no better saint do I know of. You do as your mother did, child, and you will grow that same faith.’’

‘‘I will. I will.’’

Ingeborg stopped the buggy in front of the Baard house. ‘‘How are things here?’’

‘‘Swen and Dorothy are near done with their house, so when they move, this one will seem mighty big. She’s starting to wear looser dresses. It will be good to have a baby in the family again. Knute says that after our wedding, Mr. Moen and I can live here too, but I’m not sure what we will do after we return from Norway. Ma always wanted to go to Norway and see her relatives, and now I will be doing that.’’

‘‘That will be good.’’ Ingeborg ignored the barb that dug in her heart. A silence stretched.

‘‘Do . . . do you think they will like me?’’

Ingeborg returned from her own thoughts. ‘‘Who?’’

‘‘Mr. Moen’s little girls. They are living with their grandparents now.’’

‘‘Oh, Anji, my dear, of course they will like you. Once they get to know you and see how happy you are making their father, they will love you.’’

‘‘I pray that is so.’’

Ingeborg could hear the deep breath and slow exhale. ‘‘I too will pray that is so.’’

‘‘Mange takk.’’ Anji stepped from the buggy. ‘‘I . . . I am so glad you got there before she . . . she died. I’ll go send Gus on his way.’’

Halfway home Ingeborg felt all her spirit drain right out of her, as if someone had pulled a plug. Holding the reins took more than she could do, so she gave them a turn around the whip stock. She rubbed her burning eyes and slumped against the padded seat. The next thing she knew, Haakan was lifting her from the buggy.

‘‘I can walk.’’

‘‘You sure?’’

‘‘Ja, put me down, but don’t let go of me.’’ When her feet touched the ground, she leaned against his strong body. She turned and slid her hands around his waist.

‘‘You’ve had a hard day.’’

‘‘Ja.’’ Anything more took too much effort.

‘‘I see we have a guest.’’

‘‘Ja, thank God for Astrid.’’ Together they mounted the steps to the enclosed porch.

‘‘She is having fun playing Ma.’’

‘‘Good.’’ A yawn nearly popped her jaw.

‘‘So you can just eat something and crawl into bed.’’

‘‘I think I must not be as young as I used to be.’’ Ingeborg yawned again.

‘‘Mrs. Mendohlson died?’’

‘‘Ja. With the baby never born.’’

When she closed her eyes, all she could see was blood everywhere.

The next afternoon they added another grave to the cemetery. Just as those burials in the spring when they were finally able to bury those who had died during the winter, this one reminded those living how life could change so swiftly. Mr. Mendohlson stood beside the pine box that Swen Baard had made the night before, his children clinging to his sides. Neither said a word as Pastor Solberg read the service. When he picked up a handful of dirt and drizzled the sign of the cross on the box, a choking sound broke the silence.

‘‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Blessed be the name of the Lord.’’ As Pastor Solberg lifted his voice in prayer and then asked all of them to say the Lord’s prayer with him, a little boy’s cry, ‘‘Ma-a-a, I want Ma,’’ brought tears to those gathered around. Mr. Mendohlson picked up his son, shook hands with those who greeted him and, after thanking the pastor, strode out across the prairie with Julia hanging on by a fistful of his trousers.

‘‘There is coffee and desserts waiting us at the church.’’ Pastor Solberg glanced out at the retreating figure and shook his head. ‘‘God be with you.’’

‘‘Amen,’’ responded those gathered.

Ingeborg had an idea he’d been speaking to the grieving husband more than the others.

‘‘Hear you got a new bull,’’ Haakan said to Swen as he smiled his thanks to Ingeborg for bringing him a cup of coffee.

‘‘Ja, he’s a bit of a headstrong one. I’ve got to put a ring in his nose and beef up the corral where we keep him. The fool who owned him didn’t dehorn him when he was younger. Now it’s going to be a real mess.’’ Swen had the same tall, lanky build of his father and wore his manhood like an oft-washed shirt.

‘‘You want some help with that, let me know.’’

‘‘I will.’’

Ingeborg finished with her tray. ‘‘I hear your house is about finished.’’

‘‘Ja, we poured sawdust in the outside walls like you did. Takes more time but certainly worth it. Onkel Olaf helped me with the insides.’’ He held his hands out flat. ‘‘Never knew I could fit a joint so good. He’s a good teacher.’’

A house raising was held for them late last fall, so they’d spent the winter finishing the interior.

As they left, Haakan called to Swen, ‘‘You let me know when you want to cut off that bull’s horns.’’

‘‘I will. I was hoping to wait until fall when the flies ain’t so bad.’’

‘‘Be careful around him, then.’’

‘‘I will.’’

‘‘Haakan, those boys are grown men now, you know.’’ Ingeborg nudged him with her elbow.

‘‘I know, but with their father gone, guess I just figure I better take his place.’’ He half turned to grin at her. ‘‘Giving advice, you know?’’

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

Chicago, Illinois

‘‘You’re not going to be very happy.’’ The voice slowly made its way through the fog of sleep.

Elizabeth stared at the old man through eyes that refused to focus.

‘‘Patrick?’’ As if it could be anyone else. Elizabeth knuckled her eyes and looked again to where Patrick’s face peeked around the half open door to her room.

‘‘I knocked, missy, but you didn’t hear me so I had to call you.’’

‘‘That’s fine. Where do they need me?’’

‘‘Surgery. It’s that Irish lass you’ve treated before.’’

‘‘Oh, please don’t tell me . . .’’ She waved him on. ‘‘I’ll be right there.’’ She drew a shirtwaist over her head and stepped into a skirt, grateful she’d taken to sleeping in her shift the nights she was on call. With her headscarf between her teeth, she slid her feet into her shoes and snagged an apron off the hook as she exited the room. By the time she reached the surgery, she was fully dressed and ready to scrub.

‘‘We’re going to have to take the baby,’’ Dr. Morganstein said as she joined Elizabeth at the sink. ‘‘That way maybe we can save one of them, if not both. Scrub quickly.’’

‘‘What happened?’’

‘‘He knocked her down the stairs.’’

‘‘In her condition? God above, what is the matter with that man?’’

‘‘Drink is no giver of wisdom.’’

‘‘Did he bring her in?’’

‘‘No, a neighbor did, but I have a feeling that ruckus I heard is him arriving in all his righteous indignation. You can be sure I’ve called the police.’’

Elizabeth swallowed the rage that made her teeth clench. If she let it loose, she would be in no condition to assist.

‘‘They better lock him up, or I swear if she dies, I shall kill him with my bare hands.’’

‘‘A heavy skillet to the head when he’s drunk would do it.’’ Together they entered the surgery.

‘‘Or a shot of rattlesnake venom.’’

‘‘Feel better?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Then let’s see if we can help this young woman.’’ They took their places at opposite sides of the table.

‘‘Tell me.’’ Dr. Morganstein nodded to the nurse in charge.

‘‘She is comatose, not responding to pain, but her heart is strong. We can hear the baby’s heart also, but it grows more faint. I believe she has broken ribs, one leg fractured, and then of course the blow to the head that is causing the coma.’’

‘‘Respiration?’’

‘‘Slowing. If we don’t take the baby now, I’m afraid it will be too late.’’

‘‘All right. Scalpel.’’

The surgery began with a swift cut from breastbone to pubic bone, followed by a deeper incision, with Elizabeth and one of the nurses sponging the blood away. When they reached the extended uterus, Dr. Morganstein looked across at Elizabeth. ‘‘Have you seen this before?’’

Elizabeth shook her head, at the same time clamping the tissue to keep the field open.

‘‘Then watch carefully. This is an operation that will no doubt become a standard procedure when the mother or the baby is in difficulty. I found one with the cord wrapped around its neck, and we were able to save the child. Normal delivery would have strangled it.’’ While she spoke, Dr. Morganstein nicked the sac, and amniotic fluid drenched the table, splashing down onto the floor. She opened the incision further and nodded to Elizabeth. ‘‘Take him out, being careful of the cord.’’

Elizabeth slipped her fingers underneath the infant and did as she was told. Holding him carefully, she waited for him to cry, but instead he lay flaccid and unresponsive.

‘‘Blow in his face.’’ Dr. Morganstein clamped off the cord. ‘‘Tip him upside down and right side up again. Move him around.’’

Again Elizabeth followed instructions, all the time screaming to God.
Save him, Lord, give him life. He doesn’t deserve this. Please,
breathe into him. Breathe life into him
.

‘‘Swish him in that pan of water. We’ve got to get him breathing.’’

While Elizabeth and one of the nurses worked frantically with the baby, Dr. Morganstein and the other nurse stitched the long incision back together.

‘‘Heartbeat is dropping.’’

‘‘Come on, Moira, you can get through this. Please stay with us.’’

But in spite of all their efforts, the mother breathed her last, and her baby boy never took his first.

‘‘God, send the father to hell where he belongs.’’ Dr. Morganstein propped her arms up on the edge of the table and, with tears running down her cheeks, stared at the perfectly formed baby boy. ‘‘I’m so sorry, little one. We did the best we could, but it just wasn’t enough.’’

Elizabeth wandered out into the scrub room and sank down on a chair.

‘‘If they had gotten her to us immediately, we might have been able to save at least the baby,’’ Dr. Morganstein said, joining her.

Elizabeth looked up, her heart hammering. ‘‘How long. . . ?’’