The Reaper's Song (36 page)

“You okay?”

“Ja, just clumsy.” She hauled herself up to the seat. “You think his voice sounded like he’d been drinking?”

“Yep. And plenty.” They both turned and looked at the house again. This time they saw a curtain move in the upstairs window. A
hand waved to them, then disappeared. “That’s her saying thank you.”

“I know. What is going on here?” Ingeborg clucked the horses forward and turned them in a circle toward home.

“I wish I knew. What can we do if he won’t even let us in?”

“I think this is a job for Reverend Solberg. You s’pose he’s been out here?”

“If he hasn’t been, he soon will be.”

While they switched to other things to talk about on the way home, Ingeborg couldn’t forget the sight of that wave from the upstairs window. Was Hildegunn a prisoner in her own home?

“You want to go visit with Penny and Hjelmer?” she asked Bridget the next morning. Unable to get the Valders out of her mind all night, she resolved to see Reverend Solberg, whether she had to interrupt school or not. Taking cheese and smoked sausages in to sell to Penny was as good an excuse as any.

“Of course. Let me get my knitting.”

“No hurry. I need to load up the wagon and get together a basket. Maybe we’ll take time to talk with Goodie too. I’m in the mood for a good visit.” She put the list of one hundred and one things she had to do out of her mind and began assembling a basket of good things for Reverend Solberg. She put in cheese, a few slices of ham, a jar of apple butter, a loaf of bread she’d taken out of the oven only minutes before, and a square of cake left from last night’s supper.

She loaded the wagon with two wheels of cheese, a crock of soft cheese, butter that Kaaren had churned the day before, and several dozen eggs. Back in the smokehouse, she studied the supply there. Taking down a haunch of spekekjot, she sawed off part of it and wrapped the dried mutton in a towel. Like many others with the new higher-roofed barns, she had hung the salted haunches up to dry in the barn during the hot days of summer. Penny would slice it paper thin and sell it by the ounce. She’d pleaded with Ingeborg to bring in more, as it sold quickly.

People riding the train had come to expect food at the general store, and while the train tanks were being filled with water, the passengers stocked up at Penny’s. More than once they’d asked about a hotel or a boardinghouse. Who would like to begin an enterprise like that?

Her thoughts and hands kept pace as she harnessed the horses and hitched them to the wagon. She could have called one of the men to help, but they were busy in the barn or the machine shed or down at the sawmill. If winter was supposed to be a time of slowing down, someone had forgotten to tell the Bjorklund men and those who worked for them.

She dropped the children off at Kaaren’s, much to Andrew’s dismay.

“Want to see Tante Penny. And Ellie!”

“You just want a peppermint stick.” Ingeborg leaned down and kissed his nose. “Is there anything you want from the store?” she asked Kaaren.

“Isn’t it wonderful to be able to buy things so easily and not have to drive clear to St. Andrew?” Kaaren took Astrid from Ingeborg’s arms and kissed the little girl’s fluffy curls. “This winter seems so much easier for that reason if none other.”

“Bless you for reminding me. I’ll bring any mail, for sure. Anything else?”

“I could use several yards of flannel for diapers. These are getting rather thin, even with the wool soakers. Bridget’s been knitting. The thick pull-on pants were to help prevent the babies from wetting on those who held them. Katy said she’d hem them for me.”

“All right. And if I see something else, I’ll get it.” Ingeborg blew Andrew a kiss, but he’d already taken over the building blocks Lars had made for the children and hardly paid her any attention.

“I’ve been thinking,” Bridget said after they’d admired the beauty of the frosted countryside.

Ingeborg waited. Now what?

“Would you mind if I stayed in America?”

“Of course not. We love having you here.”

“Well, some days I think I’ll stay and other times I ache for Norway. But there are no grandchildren there, and I so love the babies. I can’t bear the thought of leaving them.”

Ingeborg nodded, letting the woman say her piece.

“What to do?” Bridget stared straight ahead. “And if I do stay, what will I do to support myself?”

“Why, you are welcome to everything we have. You’re our children’s
bestemor. Is there something you need? Something you haven’t told me?”

“No, but a man or woman needs to earn their own way.”

“I will gladly pay you for all the work you do around our house. I just never thought you might want money of your own. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think.”

“Ingeborg, that is not the solution. We all work together because we are family, and no one gets paid for doing that. I am not asking for money, so don’t you go misunderstanding me.” Bridget turned on the seat, disturbing the elk lap robe that protected their legs from the cold. “I’m just telling you this so’s I can think it through. Me’n Gustaf, this we did all the time. It takes two people to help one think good.”

Ingeborg smiled. “All right, I know what you mean. So you want to earn some money of your own?”

“Ja.” Bridget adjusted the lap robe over both of them.

“What about your knitting?”

“What about it?”

“Your sweaters are like a painting with all the bright colors you use and the thick wool.”

“The wool is yours, from your own sheep.”

“But you spun it and dyed it. It’s your needles that turn out the hats and mittens and scarves. The soakers you knit for the babies are softer than any I’ve done. All those things could be sold through Penny’s store.”

“Ah. People make such things themselves.”

“Not everyone. And not many as fine as you do. Let’s mention it to Penny.”

“If you think so, but . . .” Bridget shook her head. “We better come up with a better idea than that.”

Ingeborg had to smile at the “we.”

“Now if Penny and Hjelmer had a baby, I could take care of it while they work in the store and such.”

“What, the ones at the farm aren’t enough for you?”

“There can never be too many babies.”

A pain shot through lngeborg’s heart. She believed that too, but God didn’t seem to think the same way. At least not in her case. Would there ever be another baby for her to rock in her arms, to nurse, to give as a gift of the heart to her husband?

After delivering the supplies to Penny for the store, Ingeborg left the horse and wagon at the barn by the blacksmith shop and walked
on over to the school just in time for recess. Children ran and shouted everywhere.

“Hi, Mrs. Bjorklund,” Gus Baard called just before someone tackled him and he went facedown in the snow. He tore after his attacker, threatening all sorts of retribution if he caught him.

Manda raced up to stop at her side. “Is Deborah all right?”

“Why, of course.” Ingeborg laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I just came to talk with Reverend Solberg for a minute.”

“Oh, good. You scared me.” Manda turned and ran back to the fox-and-goose game.

Ingeborg looked after her. Never would that have entered her mind, but then she hadn’t lost all her family except for one sister. Those two had certainly changed since they’d come to the Bjorklund house.

See, I’ve given you more children.
It was like a voice right in her ear, so loud it boomed, yet so soft it could have been missed. She wanted to turn around and ask “Who said that?” but she knew.

“Mor, what are you doing here?” Thorliff came around the corner of the sod schoolhouse, cheeks red from the cold and eyes sparkling with delight at seeing her. He pointed to the basket. “You brought me more dinner?”

“Thorliff Bjorklund, I think you have two hollow legs, the way you eat.” She wanted to grab him and clutch him to her. He was one of those given to her. Just because he was not of her loins, was he not her son?

Baptiste waved and Hamre nodded. Even Ilse almost managed a smile. So most of her children were half grown. Babies weren’t the only sign of God’s favor. She wanted to run in the fox-and-goose game, play “ante over” with the bigger children and fall down and make snow angels again with Andrew.

She waved to the children and knocked on the schoolhouse door. Just before she heard “Come in,” she thought of Hildegunn and Anner. Could the lack of children in that home be part of the problem?

“Reverend Solberg?” She opened the door and stepped in.

“Ja, here.” He stood from behind his desk. “Ah, Mrs. Bjorklund, what a nice surprise.” He came forward, hand outstretched. “I thought it was one of my pupils with another question. Sometimes I wonder how they come up with such things, especially your Thorliff. My, that boy has a fine mind.”

“Why, thank you.” Ingeborg unwrapped the muffler from around
her head and unbuttoned her coat. “I won’t stay long. Here.” She handed him the basket. “This is for you. Now I wish I would have brought cookies for all the children too.”

He motioned her to a bench. “Sit down. How can I help you?”

“What I have to say is hard.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “You know I don’t hold with gossiping?”

He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, perching one hip on the front of his desk. “I know that, so this must be very serious.”

She looked up at him. “Agnes and I went out to call on the Valders’ yesterday. They haven’t been to church or anything else for so long, and I been knowing I should go see her.” She looked down at her gloved hands. “But I been putting it off, God forgive me.”

“He does.” Solberg waited patiently.

“He, Anner, wouldn’t let us in. He yelled for us to go away and my, the words he said.” She shook her head. “Oh my. He was some mad. But we saw Hildegunn at the window as we left. She waved but that was all. You suppose he is keeping her locked up or something?”

“God above, I hope not. I’ve known for some time I should go out there too, but . . .” Solberg looked at Ingeborg. “If there is anyone guilty of neglect there, it is me. I’ve been praying for them, but leave it to you women to go beyond praying and do the doing.”

“I don’t want you feeling bad over this, I just think we need to help them, and I don’t know how. Surely he would be polite to the pastor of his church.”

“I wouldn’t bet my Sunday dinner on it.” Reverend Solberg straightened, nodding his head. “I will look into this, I promise you. And tell Mrs. Baard thank you from me too.”

“For what?”

“For braving the lion in his den. This church and all churches would fall apart if you women didn’t keep on doing all you do.”

“I didn’t want to be nosy.” Ingeborg stood too. “You must want to call the children in. I will go now.”

“There’s a far difference between nosy and acting out God’s love. Thank you for the prodding.” He picked up a handbell from his desk. “Let’s go call in the horde.”

The children lined up at the door, from the smallest to the oldest, as soon as the bell rang. Ingeborg stepped out of the way so they could enter the building and hang their coats and scarves on the pegs along one wall. A shelf above held their lunch pails. Thorliff
winked at her as he went by, and Baptiste nodded, his black eyes snapping with glee.

Ingeborg walked back to the store, thinking about what Reverend Solberg had said about the women. It was good to be appreciated, and they could do so much more if only there were more hours in the day. But she felt immeasurably lighter having left her burden for him to pick up. Maybe now things would be all right with the Valderses, and they could all go back to the way things used to be. She’d take a bossy Hildegunn over a hand fluttering from a window any day.

“Uff da. We never appreciate what we have until it is gone.”

“Talking to yourself again, Inge?” Hjelmer asked. He’d just stepped out from the blacksmith shop, attached to the barn.

“Ja, and sometimes I answer myself too. You never run out of a body to talk with that way.”

“You know, I been meaning to ask you . . .” He paused and studied the snow at his feet.

Now what?
thought Ingeborg.
He looks like a boy who got his hand caught in the cookie jar.
She waited.