A Heart for Home (11 page)

“Oh. We can shell fast and then go fishing.”

“Fish for supper would be good, all right.” Ingeborg tipped back her head to gauge the sun’s position. “Let’s go make that telephone call.”

Ingeborg poured them each a glass of cold lemonade from the pitcher she kept in the icebox, and while Inga arranged cookies on the plate, Ingeborg went to the telephone to ring for Ellie. As she approached it, the phone jangled once, then again, her ring.

“Hello.”

“Mor, May’s choking.”

“Turn her upside down and slap her on the back.”

“I did!” Ellie screamed. “Nothing came out. She’s turning blue!”

“Push on her chest. I’m coming.” She turned to Inga. “You stay here. Do you know how to use the telephone?” At Inga’s nod, Ingeborg pulled a chair over to the phone mounted on the wall and motioned for Inga to climb up. “Tell Mr. Gerald to call for your mor to come to Carl’s house right away. Then ring the dinner bell.”

Ingeborg grabbed her black bag and ran out the door. Catching a horse would take too long. She headed out across the field to Andrew’s house, which seemed miles away.
Dear God, dear God
. She let her brain scream her prayers as her feet pounded the pathway. Halfway there she had to slow down to catch her breath. The internal litany continued. Running again, she ignored the stitch that ripped her side and kept one foot pounding in front of the other.

Ellie, the baby in her arms, came flying down the steps to meet her.

“Push on her chest.”

“I did. Oh, God, please!”

Ellie laid the little one down on the bench on the porch so Ingeborg could listen with her stethoscope. She probed the child’s neck with shaking fingers. She could barely hear the little heart above the trip hammer of her own.

“She’s alive. Keep pushing on her chest. Like this: push, one two, push. Right on the sternum.” While she talked, Ingeborg dug in her bag for a tongue depressor. One in hand, she tipped the little head back over the edge of the bench and depressed the tongue to see if she could see anything caught in the throat.

Did she dare do a tracheotomy? What if I kill her? What if I don’t and she dies? The questions pounded through her brain, matching the pounding of her heart.
Dear God, dear God
. She dug in her kit again and withdrew a scalpel. Selecting the spot where she knew she needed to cut, she dug a piece of tubing from her bag. “Hold her still.”

“Ja.” Ellie, tears pouring down her cheeks, laid both arms over her seventeen-month-old daughter.

With one more prayer for wisdom, Ingeborg set the scalpel against the blue skin and pushed. Air whistled from the hole she held open with the blade while fighting to insert the tube. Tube in place, she ordered Ellie to hold it steady.

With a sigh, Ingeborg collapsed on the porch.

Get up
, her mind demanded.
I can’t. Get up now!
She sucked in a breath, and the scene flooded her mind. May, the baby, the blue baby. Ingeborg forced her eyes open, hearing something pounding, someone screaming.

Someone was saying something about Andrew. The words went on forever.

The pounding was no longer her heart. A horse’s hooves.

“Ellie!” Andrew threw himself off the horse and leaped the porch stairs. “What happened?”

“May choke!” Carl grabbed his father’s leg. “Pa!”

“She’s breathing again, thanks to your mother.” Ellie tilted her head toward her prostrate mother-in-law.

Ingeborg could hear all the commotion, and most of it even made sense, but for some reason, moving, as in sitting up, seemed impossible. She carefully moved her hands and feet. Yes, they responded. Did she hit her head on something? More pounding.

“Mor, Mor, answer me!” Andrew patted her cheek. “Can you hear me?”

She thought sure she nodded.

“Good. May is breathing again. Thank you, heavenly Father.” Ellie spoke around her sobs.

“I’m going to help you sit up.” Andrew laid a hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head.

“All right. Carl, get Grandma a pillow.” He leaned closer. “If you can hear me, blink once.”

Ingeborg ordered her eyes to blink. What strange thing was going on with her body?

“She ran all the way over here. Could it be her heart?”

Sometimes the words seemed to come from a distance. But she knew Ellie was speaking. The whistle must be the baby breathing. She’d done the right thing.
Thank you, Lord, for your great mercy.
Whatever is happening here, is this my time to come home to you?

A light smiled around her. Gentle words impressing her mind.

No, my dear daughter, not yet. But right now, you rest.

And May will be all right?

Yes. Now rest.

Ingeborg felt a tear slide out of her eye and down the side of her face. Floating on peace, as tangible as a feather bed, she let all her cares slide away. Floating on water felt wonderful, but this was far, far better. She was sure that if she could open her eyes, she would see her heavenly Father’s eyes smiling into her own. Since the voice said
Rest,
she decided to follow the instructions.

“You are smiling, Mor. Are you going to be all right?”

A slight nod answered the tear-and-fear-filled voice of her younger son.

When she awakened, she lay in her own bed, darkness all around, a gentle breeze dancing with the curtains at the open window. Had it all been a dream?

“Can I get you anything, Mor?”

Elizabeth’s voice. Ingeborg shook her head. This time it worked. She felt loving fingers check her pulse at the wrist. The scent of rose water drifted across her awareness, making her smile again.

“I am all right.” The words sounded hoarse, as if she’d not spoken in a long time. She’d almost said “I’ll be” but changed to “I am.”

“For that we are all exceedingly thankful.”

“He said I should rest for a while.”

“Rest is always good. Now, who is the he?”

“God.”

“Ah, I see.” Tears almost shrouded the words.

“I asked Him if I was to come home now and He said no, not yet. But that all would be well, and that I should rest for a while. How long have I been resting?”

“Dawn is nearly here.”

“And May is all right?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, “thanks to your quick action. We almost lost her.”

“I know. Her heart was so weak. The scalpel was clean but not sterile.”

“I swabbed the incision with alcohol. If God said she would be all right, who are we to worry about something like germs?”

“I agree.” Ingeborg heaved a sigh and then stretched her arms above her head. “I feel like I’ve had the most wonderful sleep, and yet – ” she covered her yawn with a hand – “I think I will rest some more. You go lie down now and get some sleep too.”

“I will. Thorliff and Inga are upstairs, and I will join them. But first, what do you think happened to you?”

“I either fainted or my heart did not respond well to the run across the field. I was fine, and then suddenly I was on the floor and my body would not respond. Then I heard God. That’s all I know.”

“We’ll go with that, then.”

“Good.” Ingeborg glanced at the window. The sky had not begun to lighten.

She woke some time later to the smell of coffee, the birds gossiping in the cottonwood tree at the corner of the house, and Inga trying to whisper. The last made her smile, or widened her smile further. Her stomach reminded her that eating might be a very good idea. When she sat up, she felt fine. In fact, she felt better than she had for a long time. No lightness in her head, her whole body seeming to work fine. She stood and stretched, took a dressing gown off the hook by the head of the bed, and sliding her feet into slippers and her arms into the sleeves, she tied the sash and strolled into the kitchen.

“Grandma, you sleeped forever.” Inga darted across the room before anyone could grab her and threw herself into her grandmother’s loving arms.

Thorliff threw up his hands. “I tried to keep her quiet.”

Inga looked over her shoulder. “I was quiet.”

“Yes, you were.” Ingeborg kissed the top of her head. “I think the smell of coffee woke me.”

Freda turned from the stove. “You sit and I’ll pour.” Freda Brunderson was a cousin of Ingeborg’s and had proved to be a huge help, especially in the cheese house.

“I’m not an invalid, you know.”

“Thank God for that.” Thorliff lifted Inga onto his lap. “You gave us a nasty scare.”

“I told Andrew I was to be all right.”

“Yes, well, you might have heard a heavenly voice, but he didn’t and you weren’t responding. Well, at least not waking up completely.”

Ingeborg smiled her thanks to Freda and held the cup so she could sniff the fragrance of coffee. One of her delights in life was that first sniff of coffee in the morning. This morning it smelled better than it ever had. A thirst for cold water hit her as if she’d not had a drink for weeks. “Inga, could you get Grandma a glass of water right from the pump?”

Thorliff stood and carried his daughter to the sink, handed her a glass, and pumped the handle until the water flowed. He set Inga down, and she scampered over to the table to hand Ingeborg the glass.

“You want more?” She watched carefully as if to make sure her grandma could really drink.

Ingeborg drained the glass and set it down. “My, that was the best water I’ve ever tasted. Mange takk.”

“Do you want your eggs fried or scrambled?”

“Scrambled. Inga likes them best that way.”

Elizabeth joined them as the food was set on the table.

“You’re all ready for the office?” Ingeborg was surprised. Was it really that late?

“I’ll eat first, then check on May. Inga, you are going to play over at Grant’s house today, so eat quickly.”

“Want to stay with Grandma.” Her lower lip came out, but she kept eating.

“I think Grandma needs to rest today. Freda will be here to take care of her.”

“No one needs to take care of me. I think I’ll shell the peas we picked yesterday.” She smiled at her granddaughter. “I can sit out on the porch and shell peas.”

“I can shell peas too. I helped pick them.” Inga glared at her mother.

Ingeborg thought a moment. “You come back and help me tomorrow. You will have a good time with Grant and the other children.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, I do.” Ingeborg held out her arms, and Inga slid off her pa’s lap and ran to Ingeborg.

“I rang the bell hard. And Andrew galloped up on the horse and yelled to me to stop. But you said ring the bell, and I thought my arm was going to fall right off.”

Ingeborg kissed the little girl’s shoulder. “I’m glad it didn’t.”

After the little family left, Freda sat down at the table to dish up her own plate. “That was some scare. Gerald called us at Kaaren’s, and when I came over here, Inga was still ringing the bell, and Thorliff drove Elizabeth out here. Andrew said when he got there, May was breathing, both Carl and Ellie were crying, and you were out cold on the porch floor. He thought you’d had a heart attack.”

“I wonder what closed off May’s throat like that.”

“Was she sick?” Freda asked. “Coughing, like?”

“I don’t know. I think Ellie said she woke up from her nap and couldn’t breathe. I’m sure we’ll get it all straight. Praise God for His mercy and grace.”

“We all been doing that.” Freda paused, cleared her throat, and looked up. “Did you really hear God speak to you?”

“I did. I’ve never felt such peace in my entire life. I floated on it or in it. He said to rest, and so I did.”

“Well, I never.” She shook her head. “I sure am glad He didn’t take you home now.”

“Me too. I guess. But I think being with Him must be some kind of wonderful. When the time comes, I know one thing.”

“What?”

“I won’t be the least afraid.”

9

Surely they would be coming home soon. Joshua pulled a kerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Going over to the lidded barrel that held the drinking water, he turned on the spigot and soaked his kerchief before tying it around his neck. Filling the tin cup that hung on a hook, he downed that and hung the cup back up. Good thing he was so busy he really didn’t have time to think about Astrid during the day, and at night he fell into bed like he’d been poleaxed.