Sophie's Dilemma (12 page)
‘‘Leave it to Astrid. Between her and Trygve, it’s a good thing Sophie is nowhere close to Blessing. They’d have dragged her home again. And Lars would’ve been right along helping them.’’
The two shared a smile, albeit a heavy one.
‘‘If only Seattle weren’t so far away.’’ Kaaren sighed.
‘‘Ah, but you can take the train out there, you know. And there are letters.’’
‘‘Ja, and if I don’t get one soon, I might just get on that train and go find her.’’
‘‘You ever think of taking the train and going to see other parts of the country?’’ Ingeborg asked.
‘‘Sometimes. Once I dreamed you and I took our daughters and went to California.’’
‘‘California?’’
‘‘I know. Crazy, isn’t it?’’ Kaaren looked around at the men working the fields and said, ‘‘When this place is so dear and perfect, why would anyone want to leave?’’
‘‘I used to think our children would stay right here with us, but now I know they will leave. Hopefully they will come back. To visit, at least.’’
S
NOW ALREADY WHITENED the Rocky Mountains.
Sophie rode with her nose pressed to the window to not miss a thing. Hamre teased her that she would get frostbite, but she persisted. ‘‘Have you ever seen anything like this?’’
‘‘Ja, in Norway. And there you have the fjords too.’’
She put her hand over her eyes. ‘‘It’s too far to look down. What if . . . ?’’
‘‘Don’t worry. The engineer takes the train this way all the time. He won’t drive it off the tracks.’’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘‘Why, they haven’t had a train wreck in at least two weeks.’’
‘‘Hamre!’’ She tried to glare at him, but even the nearness of him made her smile.
I am married to this handsome, fine man
. The notion made her smile wider. But the thought that followed dimmed her joy. If only she’d not had to run away. Knowing she’d hurt her family stabbed pain through her heart, but she couldn’t have imagined Hamre going off without her. And here she’d been laughing at Ellie, who could hardly bear to let Andrew out of her sight, especially after his weeks in jail in Grafton. How lightly she’d taken the idea of falling in love, thinking herself immune, loving to flirt, including enjoying the brief kisses she’d experienced. Until Hamre looked into her eyes and she felt she was drowning.
Do not think of home. Think of Hamre and our adventure. Not just
mine but ours
. She traced the veins on the back of his hand with a trembling finger. Mrs. Hamre Bjorklund. She could feel his gaze upon her and glanced up from her tracing to smile into his eyes. ‘‘What?’’
‘‘You are beautiful.’’
Heat flared up her neck and across her face. Her breath caught in her throat so she couldn’t swallow. Laying her hand against her throat kept her from touching his cheek with questing fingers. No one had said love meant wanting to be in the other’s skin. Or did she just have a worse case than most? ‘‘Thank you.’’ She cleared her throat and tried again. This time the words could be heard.
The outside flashed dark.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘We’re in a tunnel.’’ Hamre leaned close to nuzzle her ear, and when she turned her face, he kissed her.
‘‘Oh.’’ Breathing against a man’s lips was another new and heady experience. It was a good thing she was sitting down, for she was sure her legs would not hold her up.
A snowfield outside sent sparkles into the car as they cleared the end of the tunnel. ‘‘Oh.’’ This time the beauty outside caught her attention again, but she left her hand securely in his on the seat between them.
Sleeping with her head on his shoulder was an experience she loved, but waking with her neck aching, soot coating her skin, and her hair tumbling about her face made her wish for a basin of warm water and her comb and brush. Forests, lakes, valleys, plains of sagebrush and grass all passed by the windows. Then more meals, more sleep, more mountains, and finally they were approaching Seattle.
‘‘Mrs. Soderstrum, who runs the boardinghouse where I live, will be delighted to see you,’’ Hamre said after breakfast.
‘‘I hope so.’’
‘‘She has been introducing me to young women. She said I needed a wife and a home of my own.’’
‘‘Well, now you have part of that.’’
‘‘We will find a place to rent soon.’’
But looking at his face, she wondered at his certainty. Something was bothering him, clouding that incredible blue of his Bjorklund eyes. ‘‘What is it?’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘You . . . you . . .’’ She struggled to find the words. ‘‘Ah . . . are you worried?’’
‘‘No. What makes you say that?’’
‘‘Your eyes, they . . .’’ She nibbled at her lower lip.
He touched a finger to her bottom lip, making her gasp. ‘‘You are not to worry, wife. I was just thinking on things.’’
‘‘But . . .’’ Her skin burned where he touched her.
His voice deepened. ‘‘Tonight we will be in our own room.’’
‘‘Ja, tonight.’’ Her eyes widened at the thought. ‘‘Our own . . . room.’’
They stepped off the train into a drizzle that wilted the feather on her hat within five steps so that it dripped water onto her nose. She brushed it to the side and stared around her. This wasn’t what she’d dreamed of at all. Everything looked gray, including, she was sure, herself.
Hamre nodded toward a horse-drawn buggy. ‘‘We’ll take that to Mrs. Soderstrum’s.’’ He carried one bag under his arm, his hands full of the other two.
‘‘I could carry a bag.’’
‘‘No. I have them. Follow me.’’
Sophie did as he said, slightly miffed at his abruptness at her offer to help. After all, she did have two good arms and hands. But keeping up to his stride, even laden as he was, took some paying attention, especially to keep her skirt from dragging in the puddles.
Once they and their baggage were loaded into the buggy, he pointed out the sights as the horse clip-clopped along the cobblestone streets. Never had she seen such steep hills and such huge evergreen trees, and though he said a large body of water called Puget Sound was off to the west, she couldn’t see it through the gloom. While he’d warned her that her new home would have foggy and rainy days, she’d still not been prepared. At home after it rained, the clouds blew away, clearing the skies again.
At home. You have to quit thinking that
, she ordered herself.
This is
your home now, here in Seattle where your husband is delighted to live
.
Wind blew the rain into the buggy despite canvas coverings rolled down for protection. Sophie sniffed and shuddered. ‘‘What is that smell?’’
Hamre inhaled once, then again. ‘‘What smell?’’
‘‘Stink, actually.’’ She put her handkerchief to her nose. Whatever it was, it smelled worse than the outhouse on a hot summer’s day.
‘‘Oh.’’ Hamre smiled. ‘‘The tide’s out. That’s all.’’
‘‘Tide’s out?’’ Was he trying to be funny? That’s all? ‘‘You mean this happens regularly?’’ She’d read about the tides of the oceans, governed by the pull of the moon, which never had made any sense to her. No more than planting the garden by the phases of the moon. How could something so far away have a pull on things on the earth? Not like the sun that gave warmth and light.
She tried to breathe without inhaling the stench but quickly learned the only help was a scented handkerchief.
Hamre sighed and spoke slowly, as if she weren’t too bright. ‘‘When the tide goes out, it leaves the mudflats bare, like when the Red River dropped again after a flood. Things didn’t smell too good there either.’’
‘‘Oh. So when the water comes back in . . . ?’’
‘‘No more smell. The good thing is that when the tide is out, we can go dig clams and gooey ducks.’’
‘‘Gooey ducks?’’
‘‘Huge clams.’’ He drew the size in the air. ‘‘They can dig faster than a human with a shovel. But once ground up, they make the best clam chowder. I’m sure Mrs. Soderstrum will share her recipe with you.’’ He paused for a moment. ‘‘We get oysters right out of the sound also. You could live off the land here real easy. The winters are far easier than Dakota winters. Snow comes but not a lot, and blizzards are unheard of. Truth to tell, it rains a lot, but you don’t get lost in a whiteout or have to shovel it. I’m hoping to build us a house after I get back from fishing season.’’
The thought of his being gone made her catch her breath. Somehow, on the train trip with him near and touching her, she’d forgotten they would soon be separated. How long had he said he’d be gone?
‘‘When do you leave?’’
‘‘We’ll be fishing one or two day trips here in the sound or off the Washington coast until November, when we’ll load the boats and head for Alaska for the cod.’’
And what will I do all the time you are gone?
She wanted to ask the questions that tore at her but decided to wait. She shivered in the cold draft and edged closer to his side. Even her wool coat didn’t keep her warm, and she’d almost not brought it along. The cold damp seeped right into her bones. She slid her gloved hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. Heat poured from him like a freshly stoked furnace, warming her both inside and out.
‘‘Seattle is a big place.’’ The little bit she could see, but they’d been in the buggy for what seemed like quite a while.
‘‘Bigger than Blessing, that’s for sure. We’ll go back to visit Seattle when the weather is nicer. It’ll be suppertime by the time we get to Ballard.’’
She knew Ballard was the home of the fishing fleet and where many of the Norwegians had settled. Those who’d been fishermen in Norway found a ready market for their skills in this part of America. She’d read of the Marquis de Mores, from the western part of North Dakota, who had shipped salmon from the West Coast to the Midwest and parts east on railroad cars filled with ice. He’d shipped cattle butchered in Medora the same way. In their family discussions her pa had called de Mores a man of foresight, using the railroads to change the way people lived. The fact that he was from France had captured her imagination.
Right now all she wanted was a warm stove and a place to wash away the grime of the trip. A bath would be heavenly, but a basin and pitcher of hot water would do wonders for her morale.
‘‘It won’t be long now.’’ Hamre covered her hand with his.
Sophie jerked upright. Had she dozed off? Her cheek was warm from leaning against his shoulder. ‘‘Did I sleep long?’’
‘‘Not long enough, I’m sure. But we’ll go to bed early tonight.’’
Go to bed. Share a bed with Hamre. A shiver ran from her drooping hat feather to the tips of her frozen toes. Tonight she would learn what came after kisses.
Mor, I didn’t get to ask you what happens. You
always said you would tell me when the time was right. Now you’re not
here, and I’m not there
. She gulped back the tears that threatened to blind her. Often she’d heard an old saying that for the first time struck her as meaningful.
‘‘You made your bed. Now you’ll have to lie in it.’’
Another followed on the heels of the first.
‘‘Think before you leap.’’
‘‘See, that is the boardinghouse up there.’’
She followed along his straight arm, his hand, and a finger pointing to a two-story house set off the street and against a green-decked hill. A hill that disappeared into the low clouds hovering. Were all these so-called hills tall enough to disappear into the clouds? Wouldn’t that make them mountains? A giggle escaped the boulder in her chest.
Don’t start to laugh.
This isn’t funny, and before you know it, you’ll be bawling your eyes out and
making Hamre think he married some kind of nut. Mor, what am I to do?
The house. Look at the house
. Clenched fists helped her concentrate on the orders she was giving herself.
Pay attention. Yellow paint, white
trim, lots of windows, the front porch inviting—if anything could be inviting
in this rain. Rust and yellow flowers lined the walk to the front porch.
A white picket fence with a gate. Mor had always wanted a white picket
fence with a gate. Do not think of home. Pay attention
.
The driver stopped the buggy, and Hamre stepped out first to help her down while the driver brought their bags from the boot behind. She watched Hamre count out the requested amount of money and stuff the dwindling bills in his pocket. Traveling was indeed expensive. For the first time she wondered how he would pay for everything. Was fishing for cod that good of a business?