Years (10 page)

“Thirteen. Be fourteen when Clara has her next one. I always wondered how many more I’d have if John had got married and if Melinda hadn’t... ”

But just then the men clumped in and Nissa’s mouth clapped shut. She threw a wary look across the room at Theodore, then abruptly hustled into the pantry to put away a butcher knife.

Who is Melinda, Linnea wondered. Theodore’s wife? Kristian’s mother?

If Melinda hadn’t what?

Linnea covertly studied the father and son as they entered. She tried to picture Theodore with a wife. What would she have been like? Blond, which would account for Kristian’s bright hair. And pretty, she decided, noting, too, the young man’s attractive features. Was Kristian’s shapely mouth and full lower lip inherited from his mother? More than likely so,
for Theodore’s mouth was shaped differently — wide, crisply defined, but not as bowed. Hard to imagine it ever smiling, for she’d never seen it do so.

From her seat at the table she watched him cross to the water pail, watched his head tilt back as he drank from the dipper. Suddenly he turned and caught Linnea studying him. Their eyes met as he slowly replaced the dipper in the pail, then even more slowly back-handed his lower lip. And something odd happened in her chest. A brief catch, a tightening that caused her to drop her gaze to the list of names in the open book on the kitchen table.

“Came for the sandwiches,” he said to no one in particular. Momentarily he appeared beside her, picked up the stack of fat sandwiches, and handed two to Kristian. “Let’s go.”

“See you at supper,” Kristian offered from the door, and she looked up to return his smile.

“Yes, see you at supper.”

But Theodore bid no word of farewell, only followed his son out while Linnea wondered what it was that had just struck her. Embarrassment, she supposed, for somehow the man possessed the power to rattle her nearly every time the two of them were within speaking distance.

Nissa returned, set the coffeepot to the hottest part of the stove, and shifted a look to the doorway through which Theodore had just exited.

Linnea drew a deep breath for courage before asking, “Who is Melinda?”

“You want to order them shoes or not?” Nissa nodded toward the catalogue on the table.

“In a minute... ” Linnea paused before repeating, quietly, “Who is Melinda?”

“She was Teddy’s wife, but he don’t like to talk about her.”

“Why?”

Nissa took off her glasses, held them by the nosepiece, and dampened them with her breath. She lifted the skirt of her apron and paid great attention to their careful polishing while answering. “B’cause she run off and left him with a one-year-old baby and we never seen her in these parts again.”

It took an effort for Linnea to withhold her gasp. “W... with a one-year-old baby?”

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

“You mean Kristian?”

“Don’t see any other babies o’ Teddy’s ‘round here, do you?”

“You mean she... she just... deserted them?” Something twisted inside Linnea, a twinge of pity, a compulsion to know more.

Nissa sat down, riffled the thick pages with one thumb, searching. The catalogue fell open. She licked a finger and with two flicks found the correct page. “These ones here... ” She stretched her neck to peer at the row of black-and-white drawings through the polished lenses. “These ladies’ storm boots. Good sensible lace-up ones. These’d be good for you.” She tapped the page with a forefinger. The finger had skin the texture of jerky and wouldn’t quite straighten anymore. Gently, Linnea covered Nissa’s old hand. When she spoke, she spoke softly. “I’d like to know about Melinda.”

Nissa looked up. The oval lenses magnified her faded brown eyes and accentuated the wrinkles in the lids. She studied Linnea silently, considering. From outside came the call of a crow and the disappearing sound of horses’ hooves. She glanced toward the farmyard where father and son could no longer be seen, then withdrew her hand from Linnea’s to push the catalogue back with two thumbs. “All right. You want to know, I’ll tell you. Much as I know about it. You mind if I get a cup of coffee first?”

Was it Linnea’s imagination, or did Nissa appear weary for the first time ever? She braced her knees and pushed herself to her feet, found a cup, and filled it. But when she returned to the table, it wasn’t weariness alone that weighted her shoulders. There was in her eyes the unmistakable look of sadness.

“It was the summer of 1900. My man, my Hjalmar, he thought Theodore Roosevelt was just about the greatest person that ever walked this earth. All the people around here loved Old Four Eyes, you know, liked to think of him as their native son, ever since he ranched down at Medora those couple o’ years. Add to that the fact that he’d just been down to Cuba with his Rough Riders and rode up San Juan Hill, and he was nothing short of a national hero. But there was nobody admired him like my Hjalmar.

“Then that summer Roosevelt decides to run for vice-president with McKinley, and Hjalmar heard they was coming through Williston on a campaign train. Never forget that day he comes
poundin’ in the house bellerin’ ‘missus’ — that’s what he used to call me when he was excited — ’missus,’ he bellered, ‘get your gear packed, we’re goin’ to Williston to see Roosevelt!’

“Why, land, I couldn’t believe it. I said ‘Hjalmar, what’re you talking about? You been samplin Helgeson’s new batch of barley beer again?’ Used to be this fellow named Helgeson, lived over in the next section and brewed homemade beer the two of them was always claimin’ needed testin’...” A light of remembrance softened Nissa’s eyes, and the ghost of a smile tipped up her lips. Abruptly she cleared her throat, took a gulp of coffee, and drew herself back to the main point of the story.

“So Hjalmar, he says no boy that was named after Teddy Roosevelt should miss the chance to see his namesake in the flesh when he was gonna be no more’n sixty miles away, and so we was all three going to Williston to meet that train.”

Nissa made a gavel of her fist and brought it down lightly atop the open catalogue. “Well, say, that’s just what we did. Rode on down to Williston, the three of us, and took a room in the Manitou Hotel and got all gussied up in our Sunday clothes and went to the depot to watch that train come in.” She waggled her head slowly. “It was somethin’ to see, I’ll tell you.” She pressed her fist to her heart. “There was this big brass band playin’ all them marching songs and school children waving American flags, and then the train come in, all decked out with bunting... and there he was, Mr. Roosevelt himself, standin’ on the last car with his hands in the air and his cheeks as red as the stripes on them flags and that band boomin’ out patriotic songs. I remember lookin’ up at my Hjalmar and seein’ the smile on his face — he had a moustache just like Roosevelt’s— and he had his arm around our Teddy’s shoulder and was pointing at the great man and shoutin’ somethin’ in Teddy’s ear.”

Watching the expression on Nissa’s face, Linnea could see and hear it all. Then Nissa looked up, caught herself woolgathering, and dropped her hand from her heart to the handle of her cup. She sniffed, as if to clear more than just her nose.

“Well, she was there on the train somewhere, Melinda was. Her pa was on the McKinley/Roosevelt campaign committee and her ma was dead, so she went everywhere with him. As it turns out, they stayed in Williston for more than a whistlestop. Seems there was some rich fellow there by the name of Hagens
who had donated plenty to the campaign, and there was a regular rally where the farmers could have a chance to talk to the candidates and pin ‘em down to some promises. Afterwards there was a dinner at the Manitou and they spread all of McKinley’s key people around at the tables to answer questions, and Melinda and her pa ended up at our table.

“I don’t remember much about it and maybe it was Hjalmar’s and my fault for not payin’ much mind to them young people, but he was busy talkin’ politics and I was gettin’ my eye full of that fancy hotel. I do remember there was a band playin’ again and once I nudged Hjalmar’s shoulder and said ‘Would you look at there,’ because lo and behold, there was our Teddy dancing with that young girl. Course Hjalmar, he was caught up in arguing the goods and bads of Mr. Roosevelt’s new civil service system, and I don’t just remember what time it was but our Teddy he comes and tells us he and the young lady are going out for a walk. Sure, I was surprised, but Teddy, he was seventeen, after all.”

Linnea tried to imagine Theodore at seventeen, but could not. She tried to imagine Theodore dancing, but could not. She tried to imagine him taking a young woman out for a walk with her hand on his arm, but could not. Having seen only his irascible side, these pictures seemed out of character.

“But seventeen or not, that boy had us in a tizzy fit before mornin’. We waited and we waited, and we checked with Melinda’s pa, but she wasn’t back either, and it wasn’t till nearly five in the mornin’ them two got back and when they come down the hall they was holdin’ hands.” Nissa peered over the tops of her glasses and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, you ever seen what it’s like when a weasel sashays into a hen house? That’s about what it was like when we caught sight of them two in that hall. There was feathers flyin’ in all directions, and some of ‘em was from me. Granted, I was doin’ my share of dressin’ down, but, lord, I never heard such bawlin’ and screamin’ and shoutin’ as when Melinda’s pa hauled her off into their room down the hall, flingin’ accusations at her. She was yowlin’ fit to kill and claimin’ they’d done nothin’ to be ashamed of and that if she lived in a house and stayed put like other girls she wouldn’t have to stay out all night to make new friends.” Nissa rubbed her mouth, staring at the cold coffee in her cup. “I never asked where they was all that time, nor
what they done. Truth to tell, I don’t think I wanted to know. We hauled Teddy into our room and slammed the door while that girl was actin’ like a wildcat in the hall yet, and heads was poppin’ out of doors. Land, it was awful.”

Nissa sighed. “Well, we thought that was the end of it and we hauled Teddy out of there in the mornin’ without settin’ eyes on Melinda again. But don’t you know it wasn’t a week later she showed up at my kitchen door, bold as brass — we was livin’ in John’s place then. That was the home place up there — said she wanted to see Teddy and would I please tell her where she could find him.” Nissa shook her head disbelievingly. “I can see her yet, with that face lookin’ like she wouldn’t have the spunk to ask for second helpings, standin’ there on my doorstep demanding to see my boy — it never fit, how she acted then and how she turned out to be. Guess it was just one of them crazy times of life some of us goes through when we’re chafin’ at the bit and think it’s time to cut the apron strings.”

Nissa faded off into memory again, pondering silently.

“What happened?” Linnea encouraged.

Nissa looked up, drew a deep sigh, and went on. “What happened is she marched right out there into the field where Teddy was cuttin’ wheat with Hjalmar and the boys, and she says she had decided to come here and marry him after all, just like they talked about. Now, I never asked, but it appeared to me her showin’ up sayin’ that was as much of a surprise to Teddy as it was to the rest of us. But he never let on, and with a face like Melinda’s, it was easy to see he was knocked off his pins.

“They married all right, and fast. Hjalmar, he give them this land here, and all the boys put up this house for them. We all wondered how it’d work out, but we hoped for the best. It come out later how she’d been fightin’ with her pa about travelin’ on the train with him, and I reckon what was actually behind it was she was nothin’ more than a young girl being told to do one thing and decidin’, by lizzie, she wasn’t gonna be told what to do.

“So she married my boy. But she never suited.” Nissa shook her head slowly. “Never. She was a city girl, and what she wanted with a farm boy I never could understand. First thing you know she got in a family way, and I can see her yet,
standin’ at the window staring at the wheat, sayin’ it was drivin’ her crazy. Lord, how she used to cuss that wheat. Trees, she said, there wasn’t no trees out here. And no sound, she said. The sun gave her rashes and the flies drove her crazy and the smell of the barnyard give her headaches. How Teddy ever thought a woman like that could be a farm wife, I’ll never know. Why, she had no sense about raisin’ gardens — didn’t like gettin’ her fingernails dirty, didn’t know how to put up vegetables.” Nissa made a sound of humorless disdain: “P’chee.” Again she shook her head, crossed her arms. “A woman like that,” she ended, as if still mystified by her son’s choice.

“I seen it happenin’, but there wasn’t nothin’ I could do. Teddy, he was so happy when she first come here. And when he found out there was a baby comin’, why, that boy was in his glory. But little by little her complainin’ turned to silence, and she started actin’ like she
was
gettin’ a little tetched. At first, after Kristian was born, I could see she tried to be a good mother, but it was no good. Teddy never said so, but Clara used to come down here and play with the baby, and she’d come home and tell us how Melinda cried all the time. Never quit cryin’, but what could he do about it? He couldn’t change all that wheatland into woods. He couldn’t put no city in the middle of this here farmyard for her.

“And then one day she just up and left. Left a note sayin’ to tell Kristian she loved him and she was sorry, but I never saw it, nor did I ask to. It was Clara told me about it.” Again her thoughts trailed off.

“And you took care of Kristian after that?”

A new sadness came into Nissa’s eyes. “Me and Clara did. You see, my man, my Hjalmar, he’d died that year. We’d been up to church one spring evenin’ to help with the graveyard cleanin’ like we always did every spring. We come home and was standin’ just outside the kitchen door and I remember Hjalmar had his hands in his pockets and he looked up at the first star comin’ out and he says to me, he says, ‘Nissa, we got lots to be thankful for. It’s gonna be a clear day tomorrow,’ and just like that he pitches over and falls dead on our doorstep. He always used to say to me, Nissa, I want to die workin’, and you know, he got his wish. He worked right up to the very hour he died at my feet. No pain. No sufferin’. Just a man counting his blessings. Now, I ask you, what more could a
woman ask for than to see her man die a beautiful death like that?”