The Reaper's Song (37 page)

“Ah . . . nothing. You staying for dinner?” At her nod, he continued, “Well, it’ll be a while. Penny’s got people lined up for the tables. Mor is helping her and Goodie too. They’d put Ellie to work if she was an inch bigger.”

Ingeborg smiled up at him. Those Bjorklund blue eyes smiled right back, making her want to hug him. No matter what had gone on in the past between them, she had a special place in her heart for this younger brother of Roald’s. He had grown up to be quite a man.
Roald and Carl must be looking from heaven with pride in him, for I sure am.

“So you are hiding out in the shop?”

He nodded and whispered, “You caught me out.” He glanced back in the shop. “But I really have to finish the cross I promised Reverend Solberg. He wants it for Christmas. That and the altar Olaf is building. Said I’d help with that too.”

“How wonderful. That will surely make our little church more like a real house of worship. Hjelmer Bjorklund, your far must be telling all the angels about what a fine son he has still on this earth.” She smiled up at him. “Why, I believe you are blushing.” She patted his cheek like he was one of her children and headed for Penny’s house.

Ingeborg entered through the back door, smiling and shaking
her head. What a morning this had been. She heard the mixture of voices from the other room. So far, and from the sound of things, it wasn’t over yet.

“Oh, Ingeborg, I’m so glad you are here.” Penny met her with a bounce and a grin. “We’re swamped. Could you start frying those steaks I just cut? I’ve run out of food, and there are more people waiting. Isn’t this just awful?” But her laughing eyes belied her words. More customers spelled more money, and more money spelled more things to sell in the store. From the looks of things, they should turn that spare room into an eating establishment rather than a post office and bank. Ingeborg tied on an apron and set to work. After all, what did they know about starting a bank? But feeding people and making sure they got plenty to eat—now that they knew all about. Why was that man raising his voice in the other room? Had he been drinking, or was he just having a good time?

I
’m due the end of May or first part of June, near as I can figure,” Kaaren announced.

Ingeborg felt a surge of jealousy that near to swamped her. It ate at her middle and up behind her eyes, making them burn and her heart race. “That . . . that’s wonderful.” Through superhuman strength she kept her tone even.
Why not me, Lord? I want a baby too.
She forced a smile to her quivering lips and turned to face Kaaren. “June is a perfect month for having a baby, before the heat makes you so miserable that you want to melt into a puddle and your feet swell up like boats and you wish to just sit on a cake of ice and let the world melt around you and . . .” Her voice trailed off. She’d been blabbering.

“You’re not upset, are you?” Kaaren laid a hand on Ingeborg’s shoulder. They stood in the kitchen of Ingeborg’s house, which was silent for a change, except for the dropping of a chunk of wood in the stove.

“No, I am glad for you.”
And crying for myself.
She pointed to the table. “You sit down and we’ll have a cup of coffee before the others come in and the babies wake up. Trygve might be coming down with something. He was that fussy.”

“I know how bad you want another baby, Inge.”

“Ja, well, that is as the good Lord provides.” She brought the coffeepot to the table. “He knows both our needs and our desires, and if He thinks we don’t need another baby, then . . .” She couldn’t finish. “Ah, I am glad for you. And sad for myself. And Haakan.” She locked her hands over the chair back and leaned on arms with stiff elbows. Staring at her whitening fingers, she whispered, “He never gives more than one can bear. He promised that.”

“ ‘But with the temptation will provide a way of escape,’ ” Kaaren finished the verse.

Ingeborg tried to smile. She shook her head at the same time. “He must not have been thinking of Dakota winters when He said that. About escaping, I mean.”

Kaaren stood and came to Ingeborg’s side. “He’s given you plenty of children, you know.”

“I know. Just no more babies.”

A whimper came from the bedroom where Trygve and Astrid lay sleeping.

Ingeborg looked toward the source of the noise. “And you for sure can’t call those two babies any longer.” She straightened, and this time the smile managed to curve her mouth and lighten her eyes. “What one can’t think up the other will. We got our hands full in the years ahead, I can tell.”

“Bless you, my sister.” Kaaren stroked Ingeborg’s arm.

They sipped their coffee in the silence that settled peacefully around their souls and shoulders like the lightest of shawls knit with love and big needles.

“You got the feeling that there’s something going on that no one is telling us?” Ingeborg had her elbows propped on the table and the coffee cup nestled in her hands.

“Why sure, it’s almost Christmas. That’s the way it is supposed to be. You can’t tell me you aren’t hoarding a secret or two.”

“No, it’s different than that. Like everyone else knows but me.” She glanced at Kaaren with a questioning eyebrow.

Kaaren shook her head. “I have no idea what you are talking about, so if you are trying to pump me, it won’t work.”

“Never hurts to try.” Ingeborg cocked her head. “There’s the sleigh bells. Now you watch, those kids are hiding something, and Haakan is in on it.”

The schoolchildren blew in on a snowy north wind breath, their laughter cutting off at the sight of Ingeborg and Kaaren at the table. Manda covered her mouth with her snowy mitten and giggled as she took off her muffler.

A glare from Thorliff only made it worse.

Ingeborg gave Kaaren a knowing look that said quite plainly, “See? What did I tell you?”

As soon as they’d devoured the milk and molasses cookies set out for them, they bundled up again.

“We got work to do out in the barn,” Thorliff announced. He led
the group out but peeked back in the door when they’d gone. “You’re making something good for the program tomorrow night, aren’t you?” The sound of his laughter floated through before the door slammed.

“Do you miss things like the program?” Ingeborg turned back to Kaaren.

“Yes and no. I loved teaching while I did it, and doing the first program made it even more special, but . . .” She paused. “I got so much to do with the three we have and another on the way that I don’t have time to miss anything. Besides, I’m trying to find ways to help Grace be able to know what we are saying.” She shook her head slowly, as if attached to a great weight. “That takes every teaching skill I have. She is learning to read lips, though. If she can see your mouth move, she is figuring out what things mean. Ah, Inge, she is so smart, that one. To be locked in a world of silence . . .”

Now it was Ingeborg’s turn to shake her head. “I cannot bear to think it. Not to hear the song of a meadowlark in the spring, or the cry of a loon, or the beller of a cow. Or hear when a baby cries, or the dog barks to let us know someone is coming, or when something is boiling over on the stove. How will she even get along?”

“She will! God gave her to us for a special reason and us to her. Having Katy at our house all the time is such a help, and Ilse takes over the twins when she gets home from school. Oh, I am so blessed.”

That evening after the children were in bed, the three adults brought out the gifts they were making for Christmas. Haakan took out his carving knife and continued fashioning feet and hands for the dolls Ingeborg was making for the three little girls. He had already carved the heads. Bridget knit away—sweaters for the boys and dresses for the girls. Ingeborg stuffed sawdust into the cloth doll bodies she had sewn. A dress, pinafore, and pantaloons were already finished and tucked out of sight in a box, along with other treasures she’d been working on.

“I think yarn will make the best hair,” Bridget said after looking again at one of the carved heads. “I was thinking to use wool, you know, before it is carded.”

“That would work.” Haakan held up a small hand. “Only one to go. Are you sure you can’t find someone else who needs a doll too?”

His question made Ingeborg smile. The one they’d made for Deborah, along with a cradle and quilt, was hidden on the top of a shelf and behind a blanket. She couldn’t wait to see the little girl’s eyes light up. She loved the rag doll Ingeborg had made earlier and carted it with her everywhere.

“You finished Trygve’s train yet?”

Haakan shook his head. “Got to smooth it out and put on the wheels. I got Andrew helping me with that. He’s learning to use the deer horn to smooth wood. He’s pretty strong for his age, you know.”

“And stubborn.”

“Ja.” Haakan grinned, a look of pride creasing his face. “He’s a Bjorklund, ain’t he?”

“You got ants in your pants or something?” Ingeborg laid a hand on Thorliff’s shoulder and held him in place.

“But we’re going to be late.”

“No, your pa will leave with you children in a few minutes, and the rest of us will come with Lars.”

“I want you to get a front seat.”

“We will come soon, then.” She tousled his hair. “You better go comb your hair, son.”

He wrinkled his nose at her. “My hat will mess it anyway.” He nibbled on his lower lip.

“What is it?”

“N-nothing.” He shook his head and bounded off, ricocheting off the kitchen counter as he went out the door. “Ouch!”

“That boy. He’s growing so fast he’s lost track of his body. Why, he’s knocked more things over or banged into them in the last weeks than in his whole life.”

“It will get worse before it gets better.” Bridget turned from putting the last of the fattigmann and sour cream cookies in the basket.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Bridget paused.

“It’s a wolf howling.” Ingeborg finished banking the stove. A tap at the door and Metiz entered, kicking snow off her boots before stepping on the braided rag rug.

“Wolf back.”

Ingeborg clasped her hands to her breast. “Oh, Metiz, how wonderful. I hated to ask, afraid that maybe he’d gone away to die or something got him.”

“Me think so too. But he back.”

“Wolf?”

“Metiz saved a wolf puppy from a trap once, and he’s sort of stayed around. He saved our sheep one winter from marauding wolves, and he’s the one that brought Andrew back when he got lost in the tall grass. Remember, I wrote you about that?”

Bridget cocked an eyebrow.

“And then again, maybe I thought to and didn’t.” Ingeborg felt a flash of guilt. The prick of it made her wince. “There were many things I wanted to write and tell you, but there were never enough hours in the day, no matter how early I began it or how late I fell into bed. But the thoughts were there.”

“You think I didn’t know that?” Bridget tipped her head to one side. “Our prayers went up for you all the time. Now that I am here and see what life is like in this Dakota Territory, I do not know how you did all that you did.” She shook her head. “Nor Gustaf either. He so often said, ‘How will Ingeborg and Kaaren make it, the two of them alone like that after losing their husbands?’ You had his highest admiration.”

The jingle of sleigh bells and a halloo from out front sent them scurrying for their coats. “Come on, Andrew, Deborah. Bring Astrid with you. We’re ready to go.” Once they were all bundled into their coats, along with hats, scarves, and mittens, Lars carried Astrid out to the sleigh and tucked them all under the elk lap robes and quilts.