Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (17 page)

Jan strode up the slope toward the apple trees and his
brother and daughter’s graves. Henrik, Brian, and Norvald followed close behind
carrying shovels and picks.

“Our baby is here,” Jan pointed. “I wish Elli to be placed
with him.” Kristen’s grave was to the right; an obvious space remained between
Kristen’s and the baby’s graves.

For me someday
, Jan mused. He saw Søren, red-faced
from weeping, striding up the hill.

“I want to help.”

“
Ja
,
Sønn
. You and I will dig. Our friends
will help us.”

~~**~~

Fraulein Engel spent three more days restoring the house to
order and caring for Sigrün. Four days after they buried Elli, Fraulein Engel
took her departure. The dear woman had aged and weariness etched her face
permanently; her brother, concerned for her, came to fetch her home.

“We can never thank you enough,” Jan had held her hand and spoken
from his heart.

After another week when neither Jan nor Søren sickened and
as Sigrün strengthened, Amalie and the boys returned to the house. Jan spent
hours holding first one child then another as they searched for and could not
find their
pappa
.

That night Jan stared at the sheets of paper before him. He
picked up a quill but did not dip it into the ink bottle. He was still numb and
could feel nothing inside except the voice of habit—do this, do that; go here,
go there.

Amalie had seated him before this table to write. “You must
do this, Jan,” she’d said gently, her voice catching. “They must know.”

Jan thought these past days—weeks!—would remain the worst of
his life. Now he wasn’t so sure. How would he find words to tell Elli’s
foreldre
—her
parents—that their
datter
and
barnebarn
—granddaughter—were dead?
How could he commit those words to paper? And how would he tell his and Karl’s
foreldre
that their eldest
sønn
was dead?

He looked at the paper and dipped his quill in the ink.

Dear Herr and Fru Mostrom,

His hand hovered above the paper. Nothing came to him.

He had never understood why Elli’s
pappa
had given
his blessing to their marriage. As the younger son of only a moderately
successful farmer, Jan had no prospects of ever owning his own land or giving
Elli a prosperous life.

Elli’s father, Lars, had no sons of his own. In his heart,
Jan had cherished the thought that Lars Mostrom had looked on him as a son, had
seen something in his future son-in-law, something that he approved of and
valued, as Jan’s own father had not. When Jan and Elli told the Mostroms that
they were going to America, a light had flared in Lars’ eyes.

“I would go with you, Jan, if I were younger!” he had said
with wistful enthusiasm, “But . . . Elli’s
mamma
could
not stand the strain—and I would not place my own dreams above her health.”

Jan choked on a laugh that turned into a sob halfway out of
his mouth.
O God, did I place my dreams above Elli’s wellbeing? Above
Kristen’s life?

Amalie moved quietly to stand behind him. She clasped her
hands together under her growing belly. Jan still did not move.

She sighed and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron.
“Write this,
Bror
,” she whispered: “
I send you sad news. A bad
sickness arrived in our home three weeks past. Elli and Kristen have gone home
to the Savior. So also has my bror
—”

Amalie’s voice broke. She pressed her face into her apron,
but Jan could still hear the keening of her grief.

Mindlessly he wrote the words she had spoken. He looked down
at the paper and read what he had written.

Dear Herr and
Fru Mostrom,

I send you
sad news. A bad sickness arrived in our home three weeks past. Elli and Kristen
have gone home to the Savior. So also has my brother Karl. Sigrün survived the
fever, thanks be to God.

Please pray
for us. My sønn misses his mamma and søster, as do I. I hope you can forgive me
for taking them so far from you.

He could finish it now. He dipped the quill, wrote the final
words, and signed it.

With great
respect,

Jan Thoresen

The letter to his parents was as difficult, so he used the
first letter to begin.

Dear Pappa
and Mamma,

I send you
sad news. A bad sickness arrived in our home three weeks past. Karl, Elli, and
Kristen have gone home to the Savior. Sigrün survived the fever, thanks be to
God.

Amalie and
the rest of the children are fine.

He wanted to scrawl,
I don’t know what to do! Help me!
Please tell me what to do!
Instead he ended the letter quickly.

Please pray
for us.

Your sønn,

Jan

The days somehow passed in a blur of chores and duties
performed by rote. He ate what Amalie set before him. He answered when spoken
to. But nothing Jan saw or heard penetrated the ache in his chest, the fog in
his mind.

One morning Søren bowed his head dejectedly over one of
their milk cows. “Nothing will ever be the same again,
Pappa
, will it? I
love
Tante
Amalie, but it, it hurts my heart that, that she has made
Mamma’s
kitchen her own. I know it is not her fault, but I am, am, am
angry
!”

“Shush, my
sønn
. I know how you feel, but I don’t
think you are angry with
Tante
Amalie, eh? Is it not that you are really
angry that your
mamma
is not here anymore?”

Large tears glimmered in Søren’s eyes. “I think maybe so,
Pappa
.”
He choked a little. “Is it a sin to be angry,
Pappa
?”

“Only if we hang on to it,
Sønn
. Only if we do not
give it to the Savior each hour.”

Søren nodded. “And what is wrong with Sigrün,
Pappa
?
She will not speak to me. Haven’t you noticed?”

Jan hadn’t noticed. His niece, again a healthy ten-year-old,
would still crawl up into his lap after dinner and they would hold each other,
neither of them speaking.

How she must miss her pappa
, Jan thought.
How she
must miss her cousin Kristen!

Now that Søren had drawn Jan’s attention to it, he realized
he had not heard Sigrün speak since . . . since when?

Since the night Karl and Kristen died.

Somehow life continued. Norvald decided he needed to learn
English to better serve the community when he took crops and livestock to Omaha
to sell. He enlisted Henrik and Brian to study with him. Of course, the three
of them tried to convince Jan to join their group.

Jan saw it for what it
was: a well-meant and transparent ploy to draw Jan out of his sorrows. He refused.

I will not learn the
English
, he vowed, stubborn in
his grief.
I do not need to learn; I have Søren.

~~**~~

All day the ache in his chest had grown. Now the throbbing
pain threatened to erupt, and he did not know what it would do to Søren to see
his father lose control. He could not remain in the barn another moment.

With no word to his
sønn
, Jan left off milking and
walked away from the barn. And then ran. He ran until he was far enough away and
knew Søren would not be able to hear the sobs burst from his mouth.

O Lord! I am undone. I am breaking. How can I give up my
wife and datter? How can I take up Karl’s family for him, O God? I have not the
strength or the heart.

Sorrow racked his body; he could not breathe.
Lord, would
it not have been better for me to come to you than Karl? Did you make a
mistake, Lord?

It was early November; winter cold had not yet set in. He stumbled,
weeping, up the slope to where Kristen, Karl, and Elli, with their baby
sønn
,
were buried. After only a few weeks, wild grasses were greening the mounds that
marked where they lay.

Kneeling between Elli and Kristen’s graves, Jan pounded his
thighs and cried aloud, unable to control the flood of grief:
It had a life
of its own and it possessed him
.

His chest constricted, and long, aching minutes crept by
before his breath returned to him. He gazed into the distance . . .
stared at the prairie that stretched before him, timeless, endless, masterless.

Unbidden, an idea came to him.
I will build a wall here.
To surround them
, he thought, wiping his face on his shirt sleeve.

He glanced around.
No, not a wall—a fence of wrought
iron. Yes, that would be nicer. More open.

He managed to stand.
A fence with roses climbing over the
gate. Sunset roses! And I will plant another tree just there, one that will
bloom over the fence and cover them with its flowers and sweet scent
.

Still weak from his weeping, Jan stepped out the corners and
perimeter he imagined, finding a comfort in doing so—as though he was doing
something for Elli. For Kristen. For Karl.

Søren appeared behind him, quiet, watchful. Like his father
had, he would get his growth late. He was thin, lanky, and awkward with the
promise of the man to come.

My sønn!
Jan saw the anguish in the boy’s eyes.
Lord,
I was wrong. I would not have my sønn left alone in the world. I must be strong
for him . . . no matter how hard it is
.

Jan reached for Søren and pulled him close.

“I was just thinking,” Jan confided, his words low and rough
with emotion. “I was thinking to build an iron fence around them, a pretty one,
with twists and curls.” He walked Søren around the graves, pointing. “Just so. With
roses climbing on the gate? I think
Mamma
would like that. And a nice
tree right here. What do you think?”

Søren looked up into his eyes. “Yes,
Pappa
. Will you
let me help?”

“
Ja
,
Sønn
. We will do it together, eh?”

“What about . . .” Søren was sniffling, but
this, whatever was happening, was somehow good, even healing. “What about the stones?
With their names?”

“Ach! Of course. Perhaps we will go to town and ask where to
quarry the best stone for engraving. Just you and I,
ja
? Just you and
I.”

Søren nodded and wiped his eyes. He held tightly to Jan’s
waist and Jan squeezed his thin shoulders.

“We will make it beautiful for them, eh?”

Søren nodded again and swallowed.

Far down the road, still on the other side of the creek, Jan
saw a buggy and two riders approaching. “We are to have company. Please tell
your
Tante
Amalie?”

Søren reluctantly obeyed. Jan heard him running up the path
to the house, heard the scrape of the repaired screen door opening and slapping
closed.

Jan went out to meet the men, four of them, two riding in
the buggy, two on horseback. He recognized Gunnar Braun’s little sorrel mare
first. Then he recognized Rikkert Kapel astride his bay. Klaus Schöener and Adolphe
Veicht rode in the wagon.

The minister and elders. All dressed in somber black.

So. A formal visit,
Jan mused.

He did not offer a welcome when they drove into the yard but
he watched them carefully. No hand raised in greeting. No one dismounted.
Rikkert studiously avoided eye contact with Jan.

When Jan still said nothing, Minister Veicht cleared his
throat. “Good evening,
Herr
Thoresen.”

Jan nodded. He could feel his anger growing, so he said
nothing.

Veicht cleared his throat again and inclined his head. “May
we come in? We,” he gestured to the others, “the elders and I, would like to
talk.”

Amalie served coffee and cake in the living room and then
closed the door behind her. Still no one spoke.

Jan sugared his cup of coffee and stirred it. He took a sip.
He waited.
Lord, I am trying. Help me to master my aching heart
.

“
Herr
Thoresen, we know you are grieving,” Veicht
said. “And your sister-in-law also. We have been praying for both of you. And
the children.”

Rikkert awkwardly translated Minister Veicht’s words. Jan
nodded his thanks. He studied his friend curiously, for the man was clearly
uncomfortable. Klaus and Gunnar watched Veicht, attentive, but saying nothing.

“You do not answer me,
Herr
Thoresen?” Veicht was
becoming a bit put out with Jan’s silence.

“Thank you for your prayers,” Jan answered. “You wished to
talk? I am waiting.”

“You are not much hospitable,
Herr
Thoresen.” Veicht
huffed. “Well, all right. What we came for must be said. You are a member in
good standing of our church,
ja
? So we are here and must bring this to
your attention.”

Jan remained silent, but he locked eyes with Veicht, daring
him to look away. He had guessed why they had come.

“It is that you are now a single man,
Herr
Thoresen,
and your sister-in-law a single woman, both living in the same house,” Veicht
finally managed. “It is a difficult situation.”

Jan’s eyes never left Veicht’s face.
O God, let me not
sin with my heart or my mouth
, he prayed. He remained silent.

“We have discussed this, the elders and I. The appearance of
it will be wrong. It would lead to temptations and, and likely to s—”

Rikkert made a sound low in his throat like a soft growl. Veicht
turned his head in surprise and then moderated his thought. “Well, as I said,
the
appearance
of it will be wrong, that is, the
appearance
of
sin.”

At the word “sin” Jan’s eyes narrowed and his hand, lying on
the arm of his chair, fisted. Veicht paused, his eyes on Jan’s fist.

Lord, I am calling on you . . .
Jan
prayed.
I need your help.

“We, we, that is, we have come with counsel. A good answer,
one that would be right for all,
ja
? Even as soon after as it is, even
while grieving, it would be right for you and your sister-in-law to—”

The look of loathing Jan turned on Veicht would have curdled
milk—but he did not respond and did not need to, for the door to the room
sprang open at that moment.

Amalie, breathing raggedly and heavy with her child, stood
in the doorway. His brother’s wife, gravely offended, spoke.

“I have been listening at the door, Minister, and am glad of
it, for you are talking of me behind my back,
nei
? You do not have the courage
to talk to my face?” Her hands were fisted on her hips.

“What? I am such a great temptation?” she demanded. Now she
was cradling her distended belly. “
Such
a tempting morsel right now that
my
bror
would not be able to control himself? Is it so?”

She laughed and the men cringed at its harshness. “Those are
evil thoughts, Minister Veicht, if you think brother and sister would do such a
thing!”

“M-m-my dear lady,” Veicht stuttered, but Amalie was not
finished.

She wagged her finger at him. “Hear me well, sir! I am
grieving. I love my husband and only him. I would not marry—I
will not
marry—until
and unless my grief has passed. But under no circumstances will it ever be right
to marry my husband’s brother. Hear me! I will never do so.
Never
.”

She slammed the door behind her.

Silence reigned in the room. Jan took a large swallow of his
coffee, marveling at what he had witnessed and proud of Amalie’s spirit. He
glanced at Rikkert. Even though the man was staring at the floor, Jan could
still see a smile curve his friend’s face.

Jan was
almost
able to stifle his chuckle. When
Veicht’s chin jerked up his face was livid.

“You think this funny?” he hissed.

“
Nei
. But you can see she is too much woman for me,
ja
?”

Jan regretted his flippant remark the moment it left his
mouth.
O Lord! My mouth!
He cringed inwardly.

Veicht jumped to his feet. “So you treat this lightly? You reject
our counsel?” he thundered.

Jan too stood up, all humor gone, but still he restrained his
temper and his tongue. “Minister Veicht, you are in
my
home. You do not
raise your voice to me here. My sister-in-law has heard your counsel; I have
heard your counsel. We thank you for it, but we are more concerned to hear
the
Lord’s
counsel than we are to hear yours or any man’s.”

He finished in a flat tone. “You have heard my
søster
.
We do not agree that marriage is the Lord’s will for us.” He caught a gleam of
approval from Rikkert’s eyes but the other two elders looked anywhere but at
him.

Veicht, his jaw clenched, studied Jan. “We give you more
time to think on it,
Herr
Thoresen. Your sister-in-law is correct. While
she is with child, the situation is less onerous. But after she is delivered,
we will speak on this again. If you will not hear us then, we will bring it to
the church.”

Jan nodded. His expression did not change and he said
nothing more. Finally the four men filed out of the room.

Rikkert was last to go out the front door. He turned for an
instant and nodded to Jan.

Later, after the children were abed, Jan found Amalie in the
kitchen trying, as usual, to work until her body demanded sleep.

“Amalie, let us talk,” Jan said. “Sit. Sit down and have a
glass of milk. You will sleep better tonight for it.”

She laughed, that choked, brittle sound that had so startled
the minister and the elders. “Ach! I cannot sleep, Jan. When I do, I wake up
and find that all my nightmares are true. And then I cannot sleep anymore.” She
stared at the table.

“I know,
Søster
, I know. But we must talk of this
because . . . because they were right.”

Amalie’s head jerked up.

“
Nei
, not about us marrying. Not that. That was
wrong. But . . . after your baby comes, they are right. It would
give the appearance of wrong.”

Suddenly she looked frightened and the dark circles hanging
under her eyes deepened. “You would not leave us, Jan? Abandon us or send us
away?” Her voice was shaking.

Jan shook his head. “Why would you think such a thing? I
could not abandon my brother’s wife and his children! Never ask that again,
Amalie.”

“Then what? What will we do?”

“First we will pray,
ja
? That is the most important
thing. The Lord’s counsel is what we need.”

“
Ja
. All right.” Amalie dropped her eyes to the table
again.

Jan knew what she was feeling.
Lord, have you forgotten
me? Do you hear me?
But still he would pray, because whatever his heart
felt
,
God was bigger!

And so he prayed aloud, “Lord, everything we have we lay at
your feet. Our lives . . . we lay before you. Our futures, we
offer you. Give us strength, Father God, and wisdom. We look to you for an
answer to this . . . question.”

Jan opened himself for the Lord to speak to him and waited.
Three days later he felt he had an answer or, at least, a first step.

“Come, Søren.” Father and son went out the kitchen door and
headed for the barn. Inside, Jan pointed to an empty corner stall.

“I am going to build a bedroom for myself here,
Sønn
.
Will you help me?”

Søren stared at him. “It is because of Minister Veicht and
the elders? They said something to you.” Søren was growing red with indignation;
Jan well recognized the symptoms.

“Let’s sit and talk a little,
ja
? Come here.” Jan sat
on the bench where they cleaned and repaired their tools. He pulled the young
man down next to him, laid his hand on Søren’s knee.

“I will admit that I do not like that they came as they did.
I would rather they came as brethren as the Bible says:
R
ebuke not an elder, but intreat him as a father; and the
younger men as brethren
. However, some of
what they said is true.
Amalie is no longer a married woman and I am no
longer a married man.” Jan’s voice grew rough as he said those last words.

“You know that she is like my
søster
, and I am like
her
bror
, eh? But since we are unmarried and living together under the
same roof, your
tante
and I, those who do not know us could interpret it
wrongly. I would not have our testimony as Christians touched by even the
appearance of evil, Søren. Do you see?”

Søren nodded, but his mouth was still set in a scowl.

“You are almost a man now,
Sønn
, and can understand
these things. So I do not talk to you as a child; instead, I talk to you as a
Christian man and ask you to pray with
Tante
Amalie and me,
ja
?
Pray that God himself will give us wisdom and guidance in this situation?”