A Land to Call Home (11 page)

“Ja, you do. Two little girls.”

“Are . . . are they alive?”

“Ja.”

“I have one right here.” Lars took her hand and brought it to his chest so she could feel the squirming body. “I think she would be happier with you than with me.”

The sun that rose on Kaaren’s face lit the room, even as the window glowed with the sun rising outside. “Can I hold her?”

“As soon as we get things cleaned up here and a fresh nightgown on you.” Ingeborg kept about her tasks, afraid to hazard a look at Metiz. The other baby hadn’t made any more noise.

Lars staggered at first when he rose from the bed, stamping to get feeling back in his feet and the cramps out of his legs. The babe that lay cradled against his chest whimpered, then cried a lusty wail
that sounded far too big for the tiny chest. “Hush, little one,” he crooned, stumbling and bumping against the chair. “Come on, feet, you’ve been through worse than this. Let’s get moving.”

Ingeborg caught the wince, knowing the needles that were shooting up his feet and legs. “You did well, Lars Knutson.”

“Mange takk. Aren’t you glad you didn’t banish me to the other soddy?”

“Ja, that we are.” She finished washing Kaaren’s face and arms, then dried them and helped her sit so the nightgown would slip over her head. “There now, better?”

Kaaren nodded, only the flinch of her eyes marking the continuing contractions. “I’d forgotten this part.” With Ingeborg’s help, she sat on the edge of the bed so the sheet could be changed and, with a sigh, lay back against the pillows. “Inge, you are so good to me. What would I ever do without you?”

“Hush, now. Save your strength for the babies. This one sounds hungry.” She turned to look at Lars. The love shining from his face as he gazed at the small bundle in his shirt made her catch her breath.
Would that God would keep these babies alive and let them
grow. “You can bring her to her mor now. I’ll get something to wrap her in so she stays warm.”

She took one of the larger flannel squares and tucked it around the infant as Lars laid his precious bundle on his wife’s breast. Immediately the tiny mouth began nuzzling for sustenance.

“Oh, dear Lord, she is so precious.” Tears streamed down Kaaren’s cheeks as she arranged the infant against her breast. “Thank you, Father, thank you.” Her whispered words of praise continued as the baby began to nurse.

Ingeborg left gazing in awe at the sight and turned to Metiz. “Is she alive?”

Metiz nodded and continued her gentle stroking motions down the baby’s back, her arms and legs, then in circles on the belly and chest.

“What are you doing?” Ingeborg asked softly.

“Warming blood. Make it move. You rub hands together and lay on head.”

Ingeborg did as told, watching the blue tinge slowly disappear to be replaced with the flush of red. When the tiny head turned, and the pursing mouth with a tongue no bigger than a thumbnail nuzzled her fingers, Ingeborg lost her heart to the tiny girl. She felt it fly right of out of her chest, almost looking to see where it lighted.
She could hear the murmurs from the bed as Kaaren and Lars whispered over the wonder of the suckling babe, but the sounds seemed to come from a far and distant land. Her entire being was focused on the smaller twin before her.

Dear Lord, let her live. Let her live. Fill her with your strength and spirit that she may live and breathe and grow in grace
.

She stopped the litany of beseeching and asked, “Have you thought of names yet?”

“Ja, we will name this one after Kaaren’s mother, Sonja, but I think we should change it to Sophie to sound more American.”

“And this one?”

“We had only chosen one name. We really didn’t believe there would be two.”

“I think Grace. For it is by God’s grace she is still living.”
And only His grace will keep her through the hours and days ahead
. But she didn’t say the rest, only wove it into the prayer that spiraled heavenward like the incense of old.

“Ja, that is a lovely name.” Kaaren shifted the now sleeping infant to her shoulder and patted the back that lay smaller than her hand. “Do you think she can nurse now?”

“I pray to God that she can.” Ingeborg looked up to catch the slight nod from Metiz.

Taking the flannel square she had draped over the back of the chair to heat from the stove, she wrapped her precious charge and carried her to her mother.

“Here.” Lars took the sleeping baby and cuddled her in his arms so Ingeborg could help Kaaren settle the other. But when they put Grace to Kaaren’s breast, she didn’t begin to suckle.

“What do we do?” Kaaren raised stricken eyes, seeking the answer on Ingeborg’s face.

I don’t know! God, what do we do?
Ingeborg’s mind raced, searching for any memory that would help them, any thought, any story she’d heard. Nothing. Why hadn’t she listened more closely when the women gathered and talked of childbirthing?

“Can she swallow if we get some in her mouth?” Lars knelt by the bed, one hand clutching the bundle he’d secreted back in his shirt front and the other touching the baby’s head like a benediction.

“We’ll never know till we try” Ingeborg looked up at Kaaren. “Can you bring some of your milk out with your fingers?”

“I never have, but I can try.” A smile tipped one corner of her mouth. The gray of utter exhaustion tinged her face and painted
dark circles under her eyes. With shaking fingers, she managed to squeeze out a few drops, but they missed the baby’s mouth, landing on her cheek.

Ingeborg scooped the precious fluid up with her finger and rubbed it against Grace’s lips.
Please God, help her to drink, You of the life-giving water, make this baby drink
.

The tiny mouth opened and closed, and Grace turned her face toward her mother’s breast. Kaaren continued her efforts to get Grace to nurse in this manner.

Ingeborg sighed. She stood erect and blinked her eyes, trying to clear the grit from them.

“Look,” Metiz whispered. “She drinks.”

Sure enough, little Grace’s cheeks dented in as she swallowed, suckled, and swallowed again.

“Praise be to God.” Lars sat down on the pole that made up the side of the bed. The screech of it sounded loud in the stillness as all held their breath, waiting for the next sign that Grace was feeding.

When it came, they all exhaled in a whoosh of relief.

“She stronger than she look.” Metiz rubbed her bent fingers together. “Good. I make food now.”

“I will do that,” Ingeborg said with a weary smile. “I know where everything is.”

Metiz nodded. “Make tea for Kaaren.” She gestured to the deerskin pouch she wore at her waist, where she always stored her small cache of herbs and medicinals.

“I should go do the chores.” Lars rose, again setting the pole to creaking the ropes holding the mattress. The rooster crowed from the barn and a cow bellered. “The animals are hungry too.”

“No, you keep that baby warm. Haakan will send the boys to do your chores or come himself.” Ingeborg handed Lars a baby quilt. “Wrap this into a sling to keep her steady.”

“She’s going to suffocate in there.”

“Not if do right.” Metiz took the quilt and tied it over his shoulder. “Baby like to hear heartbeat.”

Lars shook his head. “I thought to build them a box and set it on the oven door. Done that for baby pigs and lambs.”

“Next to heart best.”

Ingeborg turned to see Kaaren stroking the head of the child now sleeping in her arms, tears dripping off the end of her chin. To keep from tearing up again herself, Ingeborg took the frying pan off the shelf and set it on the stove. She restoked the firebox and lifted a
small pan down from the warming shelf. Ladling warm water into it, she set it on the hottest spot. Kaaren needed nourishment more than any of them, and before that, the restorative teas that Metiz brewed. She reminded herself to set some of the elk she’d shot to boiling so the new mother could drink the broth. Surely elk broth would be the same as beef broth, her mother’s all-time favorite for whatever ailed one.

Paws’ barking drew her to the window. Haakan and the boys strode into the yard, Andrew riding on the tall man’s shoulders. Within moments the clanging of buckets told her Thorliff had fetched the milk pails and headed back to the barn. When Andrew failed to appear at the door, she knew Haakan had kept him in the barn, probably in the oat bin to keep him out from under animal hooves.

She returned to her business of preparing a meal.

Metiz spread her crushed herbs and simples over the top of the now boiling water and set it back to simmer. “I get meat from smokehouse?”

“Ja, the ham by the door. It’s been sliced off already. There are eggs in the springhouse.” Ingeborg finished measuring flour and lard into the bowl. “Oh, Metiz, see if there is any buttermilk for these biscuits. Mange takk.” Ingeborg raised her voice so the woman who padded silently out the door could hear her. How Metiz could leave without the screen door squeaking was beyond her.

A baby’s whimper brought her attention to the family at the bed. Kaaren lay sound asleep with Grace still pillowed on her chest and the quilt drawn up for both of them. Lars rocked the infant in his shirt, patting the small mound and moving his lips in what Ingeborg knew to be a soothing murmur. She’d heard him use the singsong tone with the animals, and they always quieted down.

She measured coffee into the pot, making sure there was more water in the reservoir. Thorliff could bring in fresh when he came. Also, the woodbox needed filling. Brushing a floured hand across her forehead, she caught herself in a yawn. They could all do with some sleep, but someone had to cook and care for them.

“Here.” Metiz handed her a jug of buttermilk. She set the ham on the counter and, taking a knife from the rack Lars had fashioned, began slicing the meat.

“Mor, Mor.” Andrew pounded on the screen door, the banging enough to wake ten sleeping babies.

“Hush.” She opened the door and held the screen door open. “The babies are sleeping.”

He looked up at her, his eyes round circles of summer sky. “Me see.”

“Ja, but you must be quiet.” She took his hand and led him over to the bed. Lars unbuttoned his shirt, and Ingeborg lifted Andrew so he could peek in.

“Baby?” He turned to his mother, patting her cheeks with his chilly hands.

“Ja, baby Sonja, or Sophie.”

“Sophie?” He looked back at the tiny form now sleeping in her father’s care.

“And Grace is sleeping with Tante Kaaren.”

“Me see?”

“Later. You come and wash your hands for breakfast.” She set him back down and hustled him to the washbasin. “Where’s Thorliff and Baptiste?”

“In chicken house.” Andrew rubbed his hands together and swiped the backs across his mouth. When he held them up to be dried, he grinned up at her. “Andrew hungry.”

“Say, I am hungry”

He nodded. “Me too.” Giggling, he let her lift him to the box set on the chair so he could reach his food.

“Uff da, you are getting so big.” She smoothed the hair back from his forehead, then hugged him against her apron. “Den lille guten. Mor’s good boy”

Metiz turned from the ham sizzling in the pan. “Boys come.”

Baptiste and Thorliff erupted into the room, only silencing when Ingeborg frowned with a finger to her lips.

“Can we see the baby?” Thorliff asked, trying to keep his voice down but not really succeeding.

“After we eat. Tante Kaaren and the babies are sleeping.”

“Babies?” Thorliff raised dripping hands from the washbasin.

“Twins. Two little girls.” Ingeborg handed him a towel. “So very tiny, son. We all need to pray for them.”

“Like the runt pig we had last spring?”

Ingeborg and Metiz shared a mother’s glance. “Well, not exactly, but kind of. The babies were born early and . . .” She cleared her throat. The thought of burying those two tiny bodies . . .
Oh, God, please not. They want to live. We need them to live.

“Mor?” Thorliff stood at her side. “I will help.”

“And me.” Baptiste stood beside his friend, as dark as Thorliff was fair.

“I know, and I can always depend on you both.” She turned them toward the table just as Haakan pushed open the door.

“Good morning.” He hung his hat on the pegged board nailed into the sod wall. “Froze good last night.” He looked toward the bed. “She is all right?”

“Ja, and you were right. Twins . . . girls. Sophie and Grace.”

“And?”

She shook her head. “They are so tiny, I don’t know how . . .”

“You let God worry about that. We will do all we can.” He touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Grace, what a wonderful name.” He looked around. “Where are they?”

“Metiz fixed slings so they are cradled against . . . well, Lars has Sophie. She was born first and is slightly larger. Grace is with her mother.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Haakan smiled at Metiz. “You are an amazing woman.”

“When get bigger put on papoose board. Keep safe.”

Haakan took his place at the table. “I’ve heard of papoose boards.” He waited for all to bow their heads. Lars and Kaaren slept on. “I Jesu navn . . .” The Norwegian prayer rolled off his lips, and before he said the amen, he added, “And, Lord, please bless this family and make these two precious new children of yours grow strong and healthy.”

By the time they finished eating, Lars had awakened. He stood and pulled his wet shirt away from his body. “That part of her works.”

Ingeborg leaped to her feet. “You sit here and I will change her. I think we need to make a warm place to change the babies. They could catch cold so easily.”

“After breakfast I will see to something.” Haakan reached for another biscuit. “Thorliff, it will be your job to take care of Andrew while your mor gets some sleep. He can help you in the barn.”

Lars transferred the baby to Ingeborg’s hands and took a place at the table. Metiz handed him a plate with hot ham and three fried eggs. “More?”

He shook his head, already buttering one of the fluffy biscuits.

Ingeborg tuned out the sounds of eating as she removed the wet diaper, wiped the baby, and rewrapped the diaper around the tiny infant. Sophie started to cry, a mewling sound like that of a small
kitten. As quickly as possible Ingeborg wrapped her in a clean flannel blanket and then the quilt. How to keep them warm enough would be the main problem, unless they slept all the time in slings like those Metiz devised. Could Kaaren carry both of them at the same time?