Shining Water 01 - The Icecutter's Daughter (8 page)

“You are very kind to say so, Mr. Jorgenson. And just for that, I shall make you a strudel all your own and bring it to you later this week.”

The man beamed and elbowed Rurik. “See there, by golly, that’s how you get a strudel for yourself.”

Rurik nodded and patted his stomach. “It was quite delicious. My sister-in-law is a fine Swedish cook, but this surpasses even her abilities.”

“Maybe you should get Svea up here to learn how to make strudel,” Carl suggested, then turned to the others. “She is Rurik’s intended. They will no doubt marry soon.”

Rurik started to contradict his uncle, then thought better of it. A public setting such as this was no place to discuss family matters. Rurik had failed to tell his uncle about Svea’s decision; he could explain on the way home.

“Well, you are welcome to join us anytime,” Bogart Krause announced. “Now, why don’t we head into the front room and we’ll play some checkers.”

Carl shook his head. “I’m afraid I must decline. I know it is impolite, but I think I need to get home and rest. Please forgive me, but I will have Rurik drive me home now.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Carl. You never have to worry about formalities around here,” Mr. Krause said. “In fact, I think I’d like a nap myself.”

Rurik got to his feet and helped his uncle up. He looked back to thank Merrill again for the delicious meal but found she was already gone. No doubt already at work putting away the food and doing the dishes.

On the drive home, Rurik decided to tell his uncle what had happened with Svea. He went into some detail about wanting to do what was honorable to his father’s memory, but that he didn’t love Svea as a husband should and he didn’t think she loved him either—in fact, she had all but banished him after their last interaction. For several minutes Carl said nothing, and Rurik feared he had offended his uncle.

“You know, a man has to trust God first,” Uncle Carl said after some time. “I told your father that such marriages were old-fashioned and even dangerous in these modern times. He wouldn’t listen to my advice.”

“So you aren’t disappointed with me?” Rurik asked just as they reached the edge of town.

“Disappointed?” Carl laughed. “I couldn’t be upset at a man for listening to God. Son, you should never marry anyone unless you feel certain it is the woman God has given you for your helpmate. You cannot undo a marriage . . . I would have you pray and seek the Lord and do His will. My brother vas good intentioned, but not so good at understanding the heart.” Carl grew thoughtful and was silent a moment before he continued. “You should not marry out of a sense of obligation, but rather by the Lord’s direction. Otherwise, you will be most unhappy. And so will she.”

January was slipping by at a rapid pace for Rurik. He found his experiences at Jorgenson Furniture fulfilling; the detail and quality of the workmanship met with his approval, and he was proud to come alongside the men and be a part of the items produced. He also began to recognize the positives and negatives of handling a large number of employees and deadlines.

“You’re a quick learner,” Carl commented as he motioned Rurik to sit with him in his office. “You always were.”

Rurik took the seat and smiled. “You are a good teacher. I’m also happy to say you’ve been looking a bit stronger of late. Your color is much better.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about. Your being here has given me great peace of mind. I’ve long wondered what I would do about this place . . . you know . . . if my illness got worse.”

Nodding, Rurik leaned back in the chair. “I’m glad I’ve been able to lend a hand.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about another way you could help me out.”

“Anything, Uncle Carl. You know that.”

The older man nodded and folded his hands. “I’ve been thinking a long time about expanding the business. The orders are coming in more regularly and the requests are for larger quantities. I could easily double the size of the workshop. I can certainly afford it. However, I don’t have the strength to do it alone. I need a partner.”

Rurik was surprised by this announcement and didn’t try to hide it. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say. Are you suggesting
I
become that partner?”

“Who else?” Carl raised his hands, emphasizing his words. “All of this should go to a family member after I’m gone. If you come in as my partner, there will be no hesitation in leaving it to you. I’d like to know that it stays with the Jorgenson name.”The idea of moving to Minnesota permanently and taking over the Jorgenson Furniture business had never occurred to Rurik. He had always hoped to begin his own business, but to start with something already this well established was more than he could have dreamed.

“You’ve definitely caught me by surprise,” Rurik said. “But what about the men who work for you? Surely there’s a man among them that would make a good partner.”

“The men are good, but they aren’t family. I’ve never so much as hinted that I might take a partner. I think, however, with your coming here they all figure this is what I’m planning to do. They like you, Rurik. You’re honest and hardworking, and you’ve got an understanding of this business and my hopes for it. There’s no one better suited to take over, carry it on.”

He paused and looked at Rurik, concern in his expression.
“I realize you would have to leave your brothers and sisters—all your friends, as well. Coming here might not be to your liking.”

“It isn’t that,” Rurik said, shaking his head. “It’s just that I always figured I’d start my own business and bring in a good friend to run the office and sales part for me. Nils Olsson is the brother of Svea—the girl I was engaged to. Nils and I have been friends a long time. I figured even if I didn’t marry Svea, I would still continue with the plans to work with Nils.”

“You could invite him to join us here after we expand. I would like to have someone take on the office work. That way I’d be free to do more designing. Then after I’m gone, you could make him your partner.”

The idea held more potential than Rurik could have hoped. “I suppose this might sound strange,” Rurik began, “but have you prayed about this? Have you sought out counsel from others? It seems maybe a bit abrupt. . . .” His voice trailed off, and he looked carefully at his uncle.

Carl laughed. “I’ve been thinking about it since you were a boy. When Aron told me that you had no desire to be a farmer, I have to admit the idea began to take root. I have prayed long and hard about such an arrangement, and now it’s time for you to do the same. I don’t expect you to give me an answer without taking time to really think it through, pray about it along with me, and talk to your own family.”

Rurik nodded and rubbed his chin. “I will. Maybe I’ll write to Nils, discuss it with him, as well.”

“Good. That’s all I ask. I can’t help but believe God brought
you here for such a reason. However, like you, I want to be sure.”

Later, while sanding the intricate curlicues of an étagère, Rurik found himself praying for guidance. There really was no reason to return to Kansas. His brother’s family didn’t need him, and Svea had made it clear she would just as soon never see him again. Thinking about that now, in fact, gave Rurik a great sense of relief. He could easily send for the remainder of his things, and Carl had more than enough room for him to stay on at the house.

To his surprise, however, it was the mental image of Merrill Krause that made the possibility even more appealing. He didn’t know why, but he had found himself thinking of her more and more of late. He’d seen her several times at church, as well as when she’d come to deliver food to his uncle. He’d even gone to help with another ice harvest and, truth be told, had done so in order to see her again. The feelings he had lacked for Svea Olsson were abundantly present for this young woman he hardly knew. Of course, knowing that he’d be leaving in another month or so had kept Rurik’s feelings in check. However, if he stayed on in Waseca and became his uncle’s partner . . .

“So, Lord, how does Merrill Krause fit in the plans you have for me?” he prayed.

“Mr. Jorgenson?” Merrill had knocked several times on the man’s front door, and now she was worried. She smiled in relief when he finally opened the door and welcomed her
inside. “I thought perhaps you were at the shop.” In truth, however, she feared he’d fallen too ill to hear her knocks.

“No. I was stoking the stove in the kitchen. Did I keep you waiting long?”

“Not so long,” she said, holding up a basket. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Oh, you take such good care of me.”

Merrill followed him through the house to the kitchen and waited while he checked the fire. “Ja,” he said, nodding his approval. “The fire is good.”

“Are you preparing a meal?” she asked.

“Ja. Rurik will be here soon.” He straightened and pointed to a cast-iron skillet. “I boiled some potato sausage earlier, and now I’m frying them up for our dinner.”

“Why don’t you let me do that?” she suggested, placing the basket on the table. She quickly unbuttoned her coat. “I have some extra time, and besides, some of the food I’ve brought will go well with the sausages.”

Carl didn’t argue with her, but took a seat at the kitchen table and checked the contents of the basket. “I see you made
kladdkaka
. My favorite.”

“I knew it was. I thought you might enjoy some. Granny gave me the recipe at Christmas.”

Carl was already pinching a piece of the cake off to sample. “Just as good as my mor used to make.”

She smiled. “I had a strudel for you as well, but . . . I’m afraid Flynn got into it. He didn’t realize I had made it for you. I promise, however, I will make you another and hide it from my brothers.”

Chuckling, Carl took another piece of the kladdkaka. “This will do for now.”

Glancing around the room, Merrill didn’t see any sign of an apron, so she grabbed a dish towel. Fishing out a couple of safety pins from her pocket, Merrill quickly fastened the towel over the front of her flannel shirt and wool skirt. This would save her clothes from most of the grease splatters.

“Mr. Jorgenson—”

“Please, just call me Carl. You can even call me Uncle Carl as Rurik does.”

Merrill nodded. “Since I have no living uncles, I would like that very much. But in return for that favor, I would like to ask you a question. And if you don’t want to answer, that’s all right.”

“Ja, you go ahead.”

“Why did you never marry?” With the sausages starting to sizzle in the skillet, Merrill went to the table and began lifting items out of the basket. “Like I said, if you’d rather not tell me, I understand.” She searched his face to make certain she hadn’t offended him.

Carl smiled. “I was married once. Not long, but long enough.”

Merrill frowned. “Was it . . . well, was it that bad?”

He laughed. “No, it was that good. So good I never wanted another wife. She was a very sweet woman, but she died of typhoid not long after we were married. I had loved her for a long time, and no one else could replace her.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Jor—Uncle Carl. I didn’t know. You must
think me terribly nosy for asking. I apologize.” She held up a jar of sauerkraut. “Would you like some with the sausages?”

“Ja, that would be good.” He helped himself to a cup of coffee. “You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind the question.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bring up bad memories.”

“My memories of Mary are all good—except for her passing. She was such a wonderful woman.” His accent thickened. “But she was frail and tiny. Not healthy like you, Merrill.”

She smiled and turned back to the sausages. There would never be anything frail or tiny about her. Taking up a fork, Merrill gently turned the sausages to brown them evenly.

“We married after the War of the Rebellion,” he continued. “In August 1865. She was just eighteen. Before the first snow, she was gone.”

“I am so very sorry,” Merrill said, wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject.

“I’m sorry for the loss, but not sorry to have loved her,” Carl said. “Mary was the best thing to happen to me.”

Merrill changed the topic by going back to the table and pulling a large loaf of bread from the basket. “Would you like me to slice this up?”

“That would be good.” He gave his stomach a pat. “I’m mighty hungry.”

Merrill heard the front door open, and her heart gave a little leap.
No,
she told herself,
he is engaged. . . .

Carl pulled his pocket watch out and nodded. “That’s Rurik. He’ll be hungry, too.”

“Well, dinner is just about ready. Where do you keep your dishes?”

Carl pointed to the cupboard, and Merrill went right to work. She was taking the first of the sausages from the skillet and arranging them on a plate when she heard Rurik say, “Smells mighty good, Uncle Carl—” He stopped. “Miss Krause, I didn’t know you’d come to visit.”

“Ja, she brought us some good food and then stayed to cook for us,” Carl announced. “Look— kladdkaka, just as good as your mor used to make.”

“Have a seat,” Merrill said, keeping her voice matter-of-fact. “Everything is ready, so I’ll leave you two to eat in peace.”

“No, you must stay and eat with us,” Carl insisted. “After all, the workman is due his wage, as the Good Book says.”

“Yes, the workman is indeed due his wage,” Merrill agreed, pulling pins from her makeshift apron. “But my workmen at home will wonder why they have no hot supper if I don’t get going. I left them a nice stew on the stove for lunch, but they’ll want something more for the evening meal.”

She took the last of her offerings from the basket. “Here are some more cookies. I know you brought some home on Sunday, but I figured they didn’t last long.” She smiled at the two men.

“And they haven’t,” Rurik admitted, chuckling. “I’m afraid I’m to blame.”

His bold gaze warmed her to her toes. Merrill found Rurik most compelling, but she reminded herself once again that he belonged to another.

She picked up her coat and slipped it on. “I’m glad you liked them.”

Taking up her basket, Merrill bid the men good-bye and
hurried from the house, feeling overcome by her emotions. For the life of her, Merrill couldn’t understand what was happening. She teetered dangerously on the brink of falling for a man who’d already been spoken for!

“Such foolishness,” she chided herself.

“Miss Krause!”

She turned to find Rurik running toward her. She took a breath to still her nerves and faced him with a smile. “Yes?”

“You forgot these,” he said, holding up her mittens.

“Oh, goodness. Thank you. I would have missed those for sure before I got home.”

He smiled. “Thank you for seeing to Uncle Carl. I suppose you know he isn’t well.”

Merrill nodded. “Yes. I think the entire town knows that. He’s a dear man. He’s been so good to folks here that all of us want to see to his needs.” Not knowing what else to say, Merrill took the mittens from Rurik and pulled them on. “Thank you again.”