Sophie's Dilemma (11 page)
By the time they finished, she wished she could loosen the button on her skirt. How could she describe it all in a letter? They wouldn’t believe her. Well, Hjelmer would. He rode the train all the time to Bismarck for the legislature, to Grand Forks, even to Minneapolis and Chicago. How she wished she could talk to Dr. Elizabeth. Hadn’t she known wealthy people in Chicago when she was going to medical school? But then, perhaps her family had been served like this. Amazing how the questions rose now, but when she could have asked them, she hadn’t.
Later in the afternoon, she dozed against her husband’s shoulder. He said they’d see mountains too, like those he remembered from Norway. So many new things as they traveled farther and farther from the flat river valley where she’d grown up.
That night after eating supper again in the dining car, Hamre went silent on her once more. He’d been telling her about fishing and his life on fishing boats. He’d described pewing the fish from the dory to the schooner, which sounded like forking hay, since he described the tool he used much like a three-pronged hay fork, and then he had mentioned the name of a man he knew. He quit smiling, and it was like he pulled a curtain over a window and went behind it.
And she was alone again.
‘‘
I
BELIEVE WE HAVE FOUND the man,’’ Haakan said that evening.
‘‘To run the mill?’’ Ingeborg smiled at her husband. ‘‘But isn’t this the first man you’ve talked with?’’
‘‘True, but Thorliff and Hjelmer feel the same way I do. He can start work in a week or two. He has plenty of experience and really wants to move out of Minneapolis.’’ Haakan washed his hands and took his place at the table.
‘‘Is he married?’’
‘‘Widowed.’’
‘‘Ah, the poor man. Has he children?’’
‘‘Ja, but he will leave them with relatives for the time being. We all walked through the mill, and he approved of the way things are set up.’’
‘‘Of course he did. You always do things the best way.’’
‘‘Hjelmer was right. Hiring a manager with plenty of experience to make sure all the machinery is installed right is a good investment.’’
Astrid came down the stairs, a frown wrinkling her forehead. ‘‘Mor, how could Sophie go off like that without even telling Grace goodbye? I don’t understand her.’’
Ingeborg and Haakan swapped looks of consternation. There had been no word from Sophie all day—not that one was expected, but there had been hope of a telegram. ‘‘Sometimes when a young woman thinks she is in love, she’ll do crazy things.’’
‘‘Hamre should have had better sense.’’ Haakan beckoned Astrid to his side. ‘‘I hope you learn from her mistakes.’’
‘‘Pa, I wouldn’t ever do such a thing.’’ She stared at him as if he’d accused her of stealing or some other awful thing.
‘‘I don’t think you would.’’
‘‘Everyone was all upset at school. I found Grace crying behind the school during recess. Pastor Solberg moved Rebecca into Sophie’s desk. Trygve is really mad at her. He said he’d go after them if they’d let him.’’
‘‘Well, the best thing you can do is to pray for them all. Help me get supper on the table, please.’’
After grace Ingeborg paid little attention to the discussion between Haakan and Astrid, thinking instead about how to help Kaaren. Her sister-in-law’s sorrow reminded her of the early years, after Kaaren’s first husband, Carl, and their two small daughters died.
Lord, please comfort
her. I know you will bring good out of this, but I don’t know what to say
.
After supper, with Haakan reading the paper and Astrid studying, Ingeborg searched her basket of carded wool. She found a satisfactory hank and sat down at the spinning wheel. Pulling out a strand of wool, she picked up the end of the thread on the wheel, wrapped the new bit to the former, and started the wheel, continuing to pull the strands out as the wheel turned. Spinning wool always gave her comfort, the whir of the wheel a good accompaniment to her thoughts. If only they could be spun into order as easily as the wool formed into yarn.
When Astrid bent down to kiss her mother’s cheek good-night, Ingeborg realized several hours had passed. ‘‘Good night, dear one. Sleep tight.’’ Haakan sat in his chair, the paper in his lap, head back, sound asleep. ‘‘Wake your pa as you go by.’’
‘‘Are you going to bed now?’’ Astrid asked.
‘‘I’m going to spin awhile longer. I should be getting my basket ready for quilting tomorrow, but I’m out of yarn.’’
‘‘You want me to dye some tomorrow when I come home?’’
‘‘That would be good. We have onion skins for yellow. I can gather oak bark for brown, and I think I have some blue dye left from last year. Maybe Grace would like to help you.’’
‘‘I thought of asking her to come spend the night.’’
‘‘Good idea, but she’ll need to work with her signing students too.’’ She watched her daughter head up the stairs. Life would be terribly quiet here if Astrid weren’t around. And the day was coming far too quickly when that would be a probability.
‘‘What do you mean you aren’t going?’’ Ingeborg asked Kaaren the next morning.
‘‘I have too much to do here.’’ Kaaren’s eyes were red and puffy.
‘‘Come with me. You need to be out. Perhaps Hildegunn will be outrageous, and we can all get mad at her.’’
‘‘Hildegunn.’’ Kaaren shook her head. ‘‘I can’t bear the thought of anyone looking at me and thinking awful thoughts about Sophie. You know she will.’’
‘‘But not the others. We are all your friends and want to comfort you. Quilting is good for the soul. It seems someone we both know told me that more than once.’’
‘‘I hate eating my own words.’’
‘‘I know. Come on. Pick up your basket and get your shawl. It’s chilly out.’’
‘‘Should be. It nearly froze last night.’’ Kaaren glanced around her kitchen. ‘‘I don’t have anything to take for dinner.’’
‘‘I brought plenty.’’
‘‘You have an answer for everything.’’
‘‘I try.’’ Ingeborg took Kaaren’s shawl off the peg and held it out.
‘‘Bossy today, aren’t you?’’
The sun set the ice-sheathed grass blades to glittering, flashing fire winks as they passed by. Honking geese flew their formation southward, singing a song of fall.
Ingeborg stared up at the dark V. ‘‘I’d love to be out hunting.’’
‘‘You gave that up years ago.’’
‘‘I know, but when the geese honk, the urge comes over me. Remember the goose down we saved so carefully for feather beds and pillows?’’
‘‘Not just goose down but feathers of all kinds.’’ Kaaren pulled her shawl tighter to her shoulders. ‘‘Trygve brought in a couple of ducks last night, and I kept the breast feathers from them too. I’m thinking I should make some things to send along with Sophie’s trunk when we hear from her. You think they got married?’’
‘‘Is that the hardest part?’’
‘‘I think so.’’
They pulled up at the hitching rail, and both climbed down using the spokes of the wheels for steps. While Ingeborg tied the horse, Kaaren retrieved their baskets from the wagon bed. She sucked in a deep breath and turned toward the church.
‘‘It’s not the firing squad.’’
‘‘Ingeborg!’’
Together they walked up the steps and entered, the opening door letting out laughter and the fragrance of soup cooking on the stove.
Penny dropped what she was doing and came to hug Kaaren, murmuring softly for her ears only. ‘‘We’ll get through this too.’’
‘‘I know. I wanted to stay home, but resisting Ingeborg is like keeping the snow from falling.’’ Kaaren peeked around Penny’s shoulder to see the others either staring at them or trying hard not to. Sucking in a deep breath of courage, she pasted a smile on her face and said, ‘‘Good morning. I guess it is a good thing we made one wedding ring quilt ahead, isn’t it?’’
‘‘Ja, that is good.’’ Mrs. Magron nodded, smiling brightly and glancing at Hildegunn at the same time.
‘‘If they were married.’’ Hildegunn spoke under her breath but just loud enough for most to hear.
Mrs. Magron ignored her and continued. ‘‘We will put it in the mail to them as soon as you have an address.’’
Ingeborg hid a smile. Good for Brynja. It looked like she’d finally crawled out from under Hildegunn’s thumb and was thinking and speaking for herself. ‘‘All right, Kaaren. I’ll iron if you’ll cut.’’
‘‘That leaves the sewing machine for me.’’ Ellie looked down at her front. ‘‘If I can get close enough to the machine.’’
A chuckle danced around the room, lightening the mood and releasing the normal chatter.
‘‘What did Dr. Elizabeth say when you saw her?’’ Ingeborg asked her daughter-in-law.
‘‘She thinks the baby could come early.’’ Ellie cradled the bulge under her apron.
‘‘I better hurry on knitting those soakers I promised you.’’ Kaaren leaned over and kissed Ellie’s cheek. ‘‘Somehow I never seem to get the knitting done in the summer.’’
‘‘So who is running the post office?’’ Penny asked the postmistress as she took a seat beside Hildegunn at the quilt stretcher.
‘‘You think I am not doing my job?’’ Hildegunn bristled.
‘‘No, not at all. I just know how hard it is to be gone when I have a business, and I figured you’d find the same.’’
‘‘It is. But since the mail doesn’t come in until the afternoon, I can close the doors for a few hours.’’
‘‘True. I’m hoping we have some more people move into town who want work.’’
‘‘I heard they hired a man for the flour mill.’’ Mrs. Magron looked to Penny for an answer.
‘‘Looks that way.’’ Penny threaded her needle and took a couple of stitches in the same spot to anchor her thread. ‘‘Hjelmer says they might be open within two weeks.’’
‘‘Mr. Valders said it will be longer before they have enough men to work there.’’
Ingeborg exchanged a glance with Kaaren. Mr. Valders. Why could the woman not use her husband’s given name? If someone said black, Hildegunn would say white. ‘‘I think she’s getting worse,’’ she whispered to Kaaren.
A nod was her answer as Kaaren carefully cut the two-and-a-half-inch squares for a nine patch. They used different sized squares depending on how big the piece of fabric they had. Everyone brought whatever leftovers they had, and some pieced at home for their own quilts and brought the tops in to be quilted or tied. The one on the stretcher belonged to Hildegunn.
All the years they’d been meeting, all the heartbreaks they’d worked through in their discussions, praying and sharing, surely by now they knew each other well enough that there should no longer be dissension.
Oh, Lord, I wish it were so
. But no matter how much she had prayed, Ingeborg knew that Hildegunn still blamed her family for the fight between Toby and Andrew the summer before. She never could admit that Toby had done anything to create the tension that finally blew after the fire.
When they broke to eat, they spread the food out on the table and dished up the soup. After grace they fell to, and lively conversation picked up again. Discussion about the fall celebration took over—where they would have it and what would be served.
‘‘With no houses to build or barns to raise, we might need a new excuse for gatherings,’’ Penny said with a laugh.
Kaaren pushed her soup away. ‘‘I can’t eat,’’ she whispered. ‘‘I’m going to the outhouse. Ask what they want me to read when I come back.’’
‘‘All right.’’ After the door closed behind Kaaren, Ingeborg raised her voice. ‘‘What do you want Kaaren to read this afternoon?’’
‘‘First Corinthians thirteen.’’
‘‘Philippians—all of it.’’
‘‘Psalm one thirty-nine.’’
Ingeborg wrote down the requests as fast as they came.
‘‘Do you think Kaaren would mind if we had a party to get things for Sophie’s house?’’ Brynja asked. ‘‘I mean, I thought . . .’’
‘‘I think that’s a very nice idea,’’ Ingeborg said. ‘‘But let’s wait a bit and see how things go.’’
Perhaps Sophie will come back
. The thought was appealing, but somehow she thought it more a dream than a real possibility.
When Kaaren returned, she opened her Bible and began reading with the psalm. Only a slight hoarseness betrayed that she might have been crying again. That and an occasional sniff.
Later, on the ride home, she sat silently.
‘‘You did well.’’
‘‘Thank you. You were right. This was better than staying home.’’
‘‘Mrs. Magron wants to give a house party for Sophie.’’
‘‘And Hildegunn said . . . ?’’
‘‘Nothing, and I didn’t even look at her. I just suggested we wait a bit. But I’m glad they want to mail Sophie her wedding ring quilt.’’
‘‘I think they will be living at the boardinghouse Hamre has been staying at.’’
‘‘So no home of her own?’’
‘‘No. At least not right away. I keep trying to remember every little word to see if she dropped any hints.’’
‘‘You don’t think they’d been planning this all along?’’
‘‘No, I don’t. Hamre told Lars he would wait a year, so I think Sophie convinced him. When she realized he was leaving so soon, she turned so sad. I didn’t know what to do for her, but I never dreamed she would run off, and neither did Grace.’’
‘‘Poor Grace. Astrid is inviting her to come dye wool after school and spend the night.’’