The Reaper's Song (13 page)

“Hans. He said for us to come here. Andrew isn’t going to die, is he?” Thorliff asked.

Ingeborg shook her head. “No, but sometimes when you get a bad bump on the head, sleep is the best thing for you. You watch, Andrew will be up and running around again soon. A bump on the head can’t keep a Bjorklund like him down.” If only she believed the words herself.

The very stillness of his body frightened her beyond belief. Andrew was normally moving from the time he got up until he collapsed in bed at night. Since the day he’d been born, he had given new meaning to the word motion. It seemed like years ago that he’d outgrown the need for a nap.

Right now, everything seemed like years ago. Ingeborg found herself breathing with her son. She held his hand while Metiz lifted the child’s eyelids and laid her ear against his chest, gently probing the wound and the area around it.

“No break. Just a hard bump. We wait.” She settled herself on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Is there nothing in your simples that can help him?”

Metiz shook her head. “Sleep best thing. We sing to Great Spirit. He will hear.”

But he’s not just sleeping. If he were sleeping, he would wake when I call his name. Oh, Andrew, my son, my son. How long, O Lord, how long?
Her attention journeyed back to the room at the sound of Metiz chanting her native tongue with a haunting refrain. The sound soothed her anxiety, and she found herself humming “Deilig er Jorden,” a hymn she learned at her mother’s knee.
Mor, what would you do now?
Her thoughts of panic couldn’t exist in her mind at the same
time as the hymn, so she forced herself to keep singing.

She could feel peace tiptoe into the room, shy as a fawn. As long as she hummed, it drew closer and wrapped her in its arms. It stole across the little boy, circled the old woman, and wrapped the others, too, in its warmth. Ingeborg knew with all her heart that if she turned quickly enough, she would see Jesus himself, or one of His angels, standing right behind her shoulder.

Her song shifted to “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine . . .” The whispered words brought tears to her eyes. In that room, right that minute, she felt that “foretaste of glory divine.” Though Andrew slept on, the fear had fled.

“This Jesus you sing of. Who he?” Metiz asked softly.

“The Son of the Great Spirit. We call the Great Spirit God and Jesus is His Son.”

“His spirit here.”

Ingeborg nodded. “Yes, He is.”

“Bad spirit gone.”

“I know.”

“You talk to Andrew. He better soon.”

“Goodie is starting supper, and I’m going home to care for the other children.” Kaaren spoke after another time of singing softly. “Can I bring you anything?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “All I need is here.”

“You want a drink of water?” Ellie pushed strands of sun-bleached hair from her wet cheeks as she crept close to Ingeborg.

Ingeborg reached out and gathered the little girl into her side. “Ja, I would like that. And when you come back, you can help me talk to Andrew.”

“Will that wake him up?”

“Oh, I hope so.”

When Ellie returned, Ingeborg drank the cool water and passed the dipper on to Metiz. The little girl crept back into the circle of Ingeborg’s arm.

“What do I say to him?” Ellie asked.

“You could tell him about the chickens.”

Ellie looked up, reproach in her light blue eyes. “He knows that.” Ingeborg made a smile come, although she didn’t feel like smiling. “Don’t matter. Just tell him.”

Ellie climbed up on the bed and sat cross-legged on the sheet. “Andrew, it is almost time to feed the chickens, and you know I can’t carry the bucket of feed by myself. You got to come help me. And
if you aren’t there, that big rooster is going to chase me again. I don’t like him one bit, and he knows it.” She went on reminding the sleeping boy of each of their favorite hens and the nest they found in the barn with a broody hen on it. She’d gotten out of the chicken yard and hidden herself away.

With only half an ear, Ingeborg listened to the child prattle on. Her throat had dried out with the singing, so she repeated Bible verses that she had memorized while riding on the plow. With the new machinery, the fieldwork no longer took every ounce of concentration, and so the few times the men allowed her in the field, she’d put the time to good use.

Dusk was purpling the fields when she heard the jingle of harness and Paws yelping his welcome home. Ellie lay curled beside Andrew, sound asleep, her breath coming in tiny puffs. Metiz sat with her back still against the wall and her chin on her chest. The heat and the quiet of the room had captured Ingeborg also. She had caught herself nodding off from time to time, but the sounds of the men returning from the fields brought her instantly alert.

The evening breeze lifted the yellow-and-white gingham curtains at the window and blew refreshing coolness across her cheek and neck.

“I watch. You go.”

“Bless you, Metiz.” Ingeborg rose to her feet, her knees cracking loud in the stillness. She rotated her shoulders and pressed her fists against the small of her back, arching over them. “How can you sit like that? I’m stiff and I sat on a chair.”

Metiz only smiled at her and began her low humming chant again.

As Ingeborg entered the kitchen, Goodie turned from the stove, where she’d been stirring something that made Ingeborg’s stomach set up a chatter of its own. “Any change?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “I’ll go tell Haakan.”

“I been prayin’.”

“Mange takk.” No matter how much Ingeborg tried to speak only English, in times like this, her mother tongue brought comfort.

Haakan finished swinging the heavy harness off the back of the horse and carried it to hang across the pegs on the barn wall before turning to her with a smile. The smile died at the look on her face. “What is it?”

Ingeborg kept the words gentle as she told him what had happened.

“He will be all right.” There was no question in his tone, only absolute certainty.

“By the grace of God.” She stepped into the shelter he offered by spreading his arms wide. Wrapped in his strong embrace, she settled her ear against his chest, the thudding of his heart steady and sure.

The dark horse that still wore its harness stamped a front foot and snorted.

“Ja, I am coming.” After a kiss dropped on her forehead, Haakan released his wife and turned to finish the work at hand. “Where are the older boys?”

“They started chores early. Needed to be busy.”

Haakan lifted the second harness off and set it on the pegs with the other. “I’ll go help with the milking now, if you’ll take these two out for a short drink and then to the pasture.”

“You don’t want them brushed down first?”

“That can wait for one of the boys. Who’s with Andrew now?”

“Metiz.” Ingeborg clutched her elbows with her palms. How much stronger she had felt when in the circle of Haakan’s arms. “Don’t you want to see him first? Andrew, I mean.”

“I’ll stop at the house before I go to the barn. Kaaren knows?”

Ingeborg nodded, then realizing he wasn’t looking at her, added, “Ja.” She fought against the words she wanted to say, to plead
Please hold me. I feel safer in your arms
. She won the battle over her fears, and as Haakan headed for the house, she led the horses to the trough by the well. They weren’t at all pleased when she jerked them away after only a few deep draughts, pulling against the lead rope and dripping water on her arm.

“Come on, you get more later. You know you don’t drink a bellyful when you are still sweaty.” Slobbering on her seemed their revenge, as after deep sighs they followed her to the pasture gate. The first thing they did when released was trot over to the wallow and roll in the dust, grunting and kicking their hooves in the air.

“Oh, Andrew, how you would laugh at the picture they make. Please, God, let me hear his belly laugh again soon.”

Hans came from the hen house with a loaded basket as Ingeborg headed back to the house. “I done Andrew’s chores,” he said, the sadness in his eyes matching the droop of his mouth. “He’s gonna be all right, ain’t he?” One side of his tanned face still bore the traces of the mumps.

“Pray God he will.”

“I been saying my prayers for him ever since I heard he got hurt.
I heard people sometimes sleep a long time, weeks and months even. You think that could be Andrew?” The boy shifted from one bare foot to the other.

Ingeborg forced a smile to her mouth. At least she hoped it was a smile. “Metiz doesn’t think he will sleep long. She said he will wake up soon.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. “Metiz is smart. She knows lots of good things.” He looked up again at Ingeborg. “It weren’t Ellie’s fault, you know. They both liked to play in the hay.”

Ingeborg laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you even think such a thing. There’s no fault for anyone. If this is the worst bump Andrew gets growing up, he’ll be lucky. Remember how sick you were when you came to us?” At his nod, she continued. “You got well and Andrew will too, all by the grace of God.”

She met Haakan coming down the steps from the back door.

“Don’t you worry,” he said with a smile that lighted his eyes and therefore hers. “It takes more than a bump on the forehead to keep a Bjorklund down for long.”

The adults took turns sitting with the unconscious child through the evening. While the older boys came and went, whispering in the room as if afraid to disturb Andrew, Ellie remained by his side. Metiz only left the room for her supper and afterward resumed her place on the floor against the wall.

“Come, Ellie,” Goodie said after the dishes were done and the kitchen cleaned up again. “It is time for you to go to bed.”

The little girl shook her head, setting her pigtails to slap her cheeks from the force. “Andrew needs me.”

“You can come see him first thing in the morning.”

Another headshake, this one even more determined. When her mother picked her up to carry her to their soddy, Ellie let out a scream that made even Metiz wince.

“Andrew needs me here!” She flailed her arms, grabbing for anything to slow their progress.

Goodie gave her daughter a shake. “Now, behave yourself, or we will have to stop out by the woodpile.”

“No, no!” The scream turned to the most pitiful of cries. “Please, Ma, let me stay.”

Ingeborg shrugged. “There is no harm for her to stay. She can sleep on the floor by Andrew’s bed. I’ll fetch a quilt.”

The cries turned to whimpers and ceased altogether. Ellie put her arms around her mother’s neck. “Thank you, Ma.”

Goodie kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Now, you be good and don’t cause no more problems.”

“I’m good.” As soon as her mother put her down, the little girl ran straight to Andrew’s room and climbed right back up on the bed. She refused to sleep on the floor, curling up instead at the foot of the bed, with one hand on Andrew’s leg.

Ingeborg hadn’t the heart to force her to do anything else. Before morning she lay right beside Andrew and fell into a light sleep, knowing she would hear instantly if Andrew awakened.

But he slept on. Through the night and even while they changed his bed in the morning.

As each hour passed, Ingeborg fought her personal demons, the black hole of despair trying to suck her into its depths. Each time the pit yawned before her, she repeated another of her Bible verses, claiming peace and strength, hope and grace. Tears flowed when she repeated the Twenty-third Psalm, making her stumble over the verse about walking through the shadow of death. Surely God wasn’t taking Andrew home; He wasn’t going to let the boy sleep his life away.

Kaaren came in the afternoon and sat with her Bible on her lap, reading the passages she felt contained the most hope.

Andrew slept on.

The jingling of the horses’ harnesses again brought Ingeborg from the sick room. One look at her husband, though, and she felt another weight settle on her shoulders. “Haakan, are you feeling all right?”

He looked at her through pain-glazed eyes. “I will be all right.”

“But your face, your neck, they are swollen.”

“I will be all right!” But when he raised his arms to lift the harness off the backs of the team, he fell in a heap on the ground.

Y
ou have the mumps.”

“How can you tell?”

“You look just the like the children did—fat cheeks and neck. You’re hot as the kitchen stove, and . . .”

“And I’ve got to get out to the barn.” Haakan raised up on his elbows and tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He fell back with a groan.

The roosters crowed in a duet that reminded Ingeborg how much time was passing. Haakan had passed out after they got him to the bed the night before and slept the night away.

Sweat broke out on Haakan’s forehead as he gripped the edge of the bed frame with one trembling hand to pull himself up. “Help me, please.”

“Haakan, you are too sick to milk cows or do anything else. I’ve heard tell that when adults get the sicknesses of childhood, they get terribly sick.”

“Ja, well, I do not have time to be sick. Once I’m on my feet, I’ll be all right.” He peered up at her standing at the bedside. “Why are you wiggling so?”