More Than a Dream (44 page)

The dog barking woke them while blackness still covered the land. When Barney didn’t stop, Haakan threw back the covers. ‘‘Wonder what it could be this time?’’ He stepped into icy water. ‘‘Ingeborg! We are being flooded! Get as much food and household things upstairs as you can.’’

‘‘Where are you going?’’ They could hear the cows bawling.

‘‘Out to the barn to let the cows loose, no time for the haymow. Oh, why didn’t I do that last night?’’

‘‘If the flood is high enough to have water in the house, you cannot make it to the barn.’’ While she spoke she grabbed clothing off the hooks and bedding and headed for the stairs.

‘‘Andrew, Astrid, come help!’’

The two came thudding down the stairs.

‘‘Get all the food you can and take the lamps. Put the dog and cat up there too.’’

‘‘I’ll go help Pa.’’ Andrew sat down to pull on his boots.

‘‘No, I don’t think he can get to the barn, and he is taller than you.’’ The water already had moved up toward her ankles.

‘‘But my chickens!’’ Astrid started for the door.

‘‘No! They are already gone.’’ Ingeborg handed her the armloads she carried. ‘‘You stay there and run things up and down the stairs.’’

Andrew snatched the cat off the back of the horsehair sofa and yelped when the terrified animal dug its claws in his arm. He handed the cat to Astrid. ‘‘Be careful,’’ he warned and rubbed the claw marks to take out the sting.

‘‘Here, let’s get the trunk upstairs. That’s the only thing we can’t replace.’’ Ingeborg and Andrew each took a handle.

Haakan, dripping muddy water, pushed open the back door. ‘‘God forgive me, I couldn’t get the doors open.’’ He scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head all the while. For a moment he leaned against the wall, then took down all the coats and, without another word, handed them to Ingeborg and took up the handle of the trunk in her place.

‘‘I’ll cook what I can,’’ she said, handing off the coats to Astrid, who’d come back down for more. Then throwing dry wood from the top of the box into the stove, she retrieved the ham and eggs from the pantry and, with water creeping up her legs, went about cooking what they had, her prayers for their safety and those around them a litany running through her mind. While she did that, the others carried the bed upstairs, the spinning wheel, and the Singer sewing machine.
Please, God,
she prayed as she went on cooking, boiling the remaining eggs and the potatoes,
save the
livestock we moved yesterday. Protect all the people of Blessing and
up and down the river. Thank you that Haakan built us a sturdy
house. Though we’ve ridden out other floods, this is the worst so far
. Andrew and Haakan picked up the rocking chairs and kitchen chairs, pots and pans and dishes. When the water reached the firebox and doused the fire, Ingeborg carried what she could up the stairs along with the others. While there wasn’t much room to move around, at least they had saved what they could.

‘‘Let’s eat while the food is hot. This might be our last warm meal for some time.’’

‘‘Another of those things I planned on doing—putting a small stove up here. So many things . . .’’

Ingeborg covered Haakan’s hand with hers. ‘‘But all that really matters is right here. Please say grace.’’ She waited so long that she began to doubt he could pray right now, but just as she opened her mouth, he began.

‘‘Father God, please forgive me for not taking better care of all that thou hast given us. Had I listened to your prompting, more of our livestock might have been spared. Now I beg of you, protect us all from the ravages of this flood—our friends, our families, and all those who are fighting the torrents. I thank thee for this food and the loving hands that prepared it. And most of all, I thank thee for thy great mercies. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.’’

Day lightened the sky, but the rain continued, no longer in sheets but heavier than a drizzle. Ingeborg moved her sewing machine to under the window in Astrid’s room and took out the dress she’d been sewing for her daughter. Lowering the presser foot, she rocked the treadle into motion with her foot and sewed the seam.

Astrid, with the cat draped over her shoulders, leaned against her mother.

‘‘Did God need my chickens and our cows in heaven, Mor?’’ She sniffed and wiped under her tear-swollen eyes.

‘‘I . . . ah . . .’’
Lord, why does she have to ask such hard questions?

‘‘Astrid, could you please find that last paper that came from Thorliff?’’ Haakan looked underneath a stack of bedding. ‘‘We brought up all the stuff from the kitchen, so it must be here somewhere.’’

Andrew sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully using one of the gouges on his latest carving. ‘‘I saw it in with the dishes.’’

Astrid found the paper and handed it to her father. ‘‘You could read aloud to all of us. Please?’’

‘‘Good idea.’’ So Haakan read, starting with the articles that carried Thorliff’s byline.

‘‘Far, do you think it is flooding in Northfield too?’’ Astrid sat at her father’s feet, the cat curled asleep in her lap.

‘‘It could be. But the Red River is different from the others. Northfield might not be getting all the rain we are either.’’

‘‘I know. But when you look out the window, it seems all the whole world must be under water.’’

‘‘Like in Noah’s flood?’’ Andrew looked up from polishing his camel with a piece of deer antler.

‘‘God promised not to flood the whole earth again, so I think we can be safely assured that is not what is happening.’’ Haakan snapped the paper and folded it to make easier reading. He chose an article about the upcoming Easter concert to be put on by the orchestra and choir of St. Olaf and continued reading.

‘‘Pa, do you think our house will stay where it belongs?’’ Astrid stared up at her father, fear pinching her mouth.

‘‘It has before, and I believe it will again. That is why we must all continue to pray that God will keep it and us secure.’’ He laid a hand on Astrid’s head and drew her closer to his knee. ‘‘God has always been faithful, and He always will be.’’

Ingeborg hoped the children didn’t hear the slight tremor in her husband’s voice. Or was she only hearing her own?

The river continued to rise at a much slower pace through that day and the next. Through the windows they watched trees and dead cattle drift by, pieces of buildings, furniture, and wooden boxes. The water came halfway up the stairwell and no farther. Haakan and Ingeborg exchanged glances of relief when the same step remained visible.

‘‘I was figuring the best way to get us all out on the roof,’’ Haakan whispered when the children were both standing at the window looking out.

‘‘Me too.’’ Ingeborg shuddered.
Please, Lord, keep our house on
the foundation
. That morning when they’d awakened, they realized that sometime during the night, Metiz’ little house had floated away. They’d just been able to see the roof line before.

‘‘Easter is tomorrow.’’

‘‘I know.’’ Ingeborg finished hemming the dress. ‘‘And this is what you would have been wearing to church.’’ She held it up and gave it a shake to remove the loose threads.

‘‘I sure could use a cup of hot coffee.’’ Haakan stared out the window, a place he’d taken over.

‘‘At least we have food. Others might not even have that.’’ Ingeborg went to the north window and waved a dish towel out it to let those at the deaf school know they were all right. Kaaren waved back.

During the night the wind picked up, and by morning, the waves were breaking over the house. With each wave the house shuddered as if it might be rent asunder from its foundation. Water leaked through the shingles in myriad places, and they used all the bowls and pots and pans to catch the dripping water.

‘‘Come, let us pray together.’’ Haakan gathered them on top of the mattress from his and Ingeborg’s bed. Another wave crashed against the roof, and Astrid let out a shriek, muffling it in the bedding.

Ingeborg gathered her into her arms and sat rocking. ‘‘Heavenly Father, you are our refuge in the storm,’’ she began.

‘‘Protect us, keep our house solid on the foundation you helped us lay. Calm us, comfort us. We know we are your children,’’ Haakan continued. He flinched as another wave broke on the roof. ‘‘Guess this just shows how tightly we shingled this, although I never thought it would be keeping out waves, eh, Andrew?’’

Andrew nodded and bit his lip, his eyes wide as he glanced at one of the windows.

The dog whined and snaked his way into Andrew’s lap, giving the boy a quick kiss on the chin.

The house shuddered with another onslaught from the waves that splashed up on the windows, black and gray.

‘‘Don’t worry about the windows, son. The waves are hitting the roof instead of the glass. Good thing we set the house at the angle we did.’’ Haakan patted Andrew on the shoulder. The glance he sent his wife let her know how deep his gratitude ran.

She nodded in return and continued with her hemming. ‘‘And so we continue to pray. We have our very lives to be thankful for and so much else.’’ She hoped she sounded more certain than she felt.

God, help us. Keep our windows safe from debris and from the
terrible waves
. Ingeborg hid her fears by laying her cheek on Astrid’s head. ‘‘Come, let us sing.’’

So they sang hymns, then ‘‘Yankee Doodle,’’ ‘‘Red River Valley,’’ and a song about the Shenandoah River, although Ingeborg wondered if that one was appropriate considering their river was causing all the problems. When they ran out of songs, they played hide the thimble and button, button, who’s got the button, along with guessing games and Bible quizzes. They worked on spelling words and arithmetic, and everyone took turns reading when one person’s voice gave out.

‘‘Tell us a story, Mor,’’ Astrid asked. So Ingeborg told them of the early days when they came to Dakota Territory; of the time Andrew got lost in the high grass and Wolf saved him; of hunting and fishing when the game was so abundant; of starting the school with Tante Kaaren teaching all the children.

And when Ingeborg played out, Haakan took over with tales of felling timber in the north woods of Minnesota and his travels as a young man in a new land.

Haakan and Andrew even carded wool after Astrid gave them a refresher lesson. Ingeborg spun it, and both she and Astrid kept their knitting needles clicking and the sewing machine singing.

When the wind finally died down and the house was still standing firm, they cheered and sang praises.

Men came by in boats to check on the farmers, but the Bjorklunds stayed safe in their upstairs like most of the others, visiting with the boaters through the windows and sending the men on their way to those who really needed help.

‘‘I have to go home.’’ Thorliff stood in front of President Mohn’s desk at St. Olaf College. ‘‘You’ve read of the floods in North Dakota?’’

‘‘I have, but what can you do?’’

‘‘Help clean up the mess. I’m sorry, sir, but my family needs me.’’

‘‘How long will you be gone?’’

‘‘I don’t know. I just know I have to go.’’

‘‘How will you get there? The trains aren’t crossing the Red River.’’

‘‘I’ll have to find a boat. Perhaps it will have begun to recede before I get there. We’ve never seen such flooding since we settled there in the valley.’’

‘‘That’s what I’ve heard. I cannot promise that you will graduate if you take this time off. I will have to discuss this with the board.’’

‘‘I understand.’’ Thorliff fought to keep his feet from carrying him out without permission.

‘‘Do what you must, and God keep you. Don’t do anything foolish. You can’t help your family if you drown or something.’’

‘‘I know. Thank you, sir.’’ Thorliff gathered his books, let Mr. Ingermanson know he was leaving, and trotted down the hill. Perhaps for the last time. By the time he reached the newspaper office, he had a hard time catching his breath as he pushed open the front door, setting the bell to jingling.

‘‘You are here early.’’ Phillip glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘‘Are you all right?’’

Thorliff nodded and sucked in a deep breath. ‘‘I got permission from Reverend Mohn to go home. He tried to talk me out of it, but I have to be there.’’ He raked long fingers through his hair, standing it on end.

‘‘But, Thorliff, what will you be able to do?’’ Phillip leaned forward in his chair.

‘‘I just feel I have to be there. What good can I do them here?’’

‘‘If you stay here, they won’t have to worry about you.’’

‘‘They won’t know I’m coming. There is no communication without boats. I’m sure our rowboat went sailing down the river at the first surge.’’

‘‘Then how will—’’

‘‘I will find a boat in Grand Forks.’’

‘‘Thorliff, I think you are cockeyed crazy. Wait until the river goes down and then go. That’s when you will be able to help.’’ Phillip threw his hands in the air. ‘‘All right. I see nothing I say will change your mind.’’ He rose. ‘‘Do you have enough money?’’

‘‘Yes. Thank you.’’

‘‘You’ll take the morning train tomorrow?’’

‘‘Yes. I missed today’s.’’

‘‘Mohn is right. You should stay until—’’