A Land to Call Home (38 page)

“You did not
let
your babies die. The flu took them and nearly you too. You got to remember a lot of people died that year.”

“Ja, I know. But my heart screams.”

Grace went into a paroxysm of coughing and finally vomited. For a time, she breathed more easily.

“I’ll try to feed her now, maybe that will help.”

“Shouldn’t we try the tea first?”

Kaaren nodded. “You are right. You hold her and I’ll . . .”

“I have it here ready. See if you can spoon some into her mouth.” Lars held out the pan, now cooled to warm. “I put some honey in it—quite a bit. Maybe that will make it easier for her to take.”

Kaaren sat in the rocker, the baby in the crook of her left arm and the spoon in her right hand. When she touched the spoon to the baby’s mouth, like a little bird, it opened. She tipped a tiny bit of the liquid in, only to see it run out the side.

“She didn’t swallow.”

“Try again. It is new to her.” Lars’ warm hand on her knee made Kaaren feel he was part of her, part of the baby. She pushed a recurring thought to the back of her mind. Once again Lars sidestepped holding Grace. Was this true or only her imagination?

Dear God, please let her swallow. This could help her. Father, spare this child, I beg of thee.

Finally, the sick baby swallowed, then swallowed again. After
three spoonfuls, Kaaren nursed her until she let the nipple slip away. Kaaren’s thank-yous became the song that sang both her and the baby to sleep.

When she awoke, stiff and cold in spite of the blankets that had been tucked around her, Solveig held the sick baby. Lars had already left to talk with Olaf.

Ingeborg arrived in a flurry of cold air and coat. “I brought some other things too.” She held up a packet of crushed leaves. “Metiz said this is good for cough and sore throat.” She laid the back of her fingers against the restless baby’s cheek. “Still too warm. It’s hard to believe someone could be so warm when it is so cold outside. “You want I should help you bathe her? She won’t like cooler water, but it may help.”

Kaaren nodded. “It is so hard to see her suffering like this.”

“Ja, I know.”

“I’ve held her in steam and that seems to help the breathing, but then she gets so warm again. I cool her down and she starts to cough. She spit up all her breakfast.”

“If she can keep the willow tea and this mixture down, that may do her more good than milk. We can try an onion poultice too. Oh, I wish Metiz were here.”

Sophie didn’t like being separated from her sister and let them know her displeasure in no uncertain terms. She only settled down when they put the twins back together in the cradle. Grace seemed to breathe somewhat easier with the closeness of her twin.

Late that long afternoon, Thorliff blew through the door, a big smile on his face. “Tante Kaaren, Onkel Olaf is a good teacher.” He paused and sent her a special smile. “Not as good as you, but—how’s Grace? Is she better?”

“I pray so. You pray for her, too, all right?”

He gave her that child-to-adult look that wondered why grownups were so slow. “I have been . . . we all are.”

On the third day, the baby slipped into a peaceful slumber for two hours without a cough or gagging. After nursing her, Kaaren collapsed on the bed, and Solveig drew the covers over her. Surprisingly, the babies slept for three hours before Sophie demanded that she be fed. Solveig laid the babies at their mother’s breasts and they nursed, Kaaren mumbling something but never becoming fully aware.

In the days following, another blizzard brought more snow and intense cold, driving the icy pellets like javelins before it. Lars came
in from chores, the bit of his face not covered looking scraped raw.

That night Kaaren kept the babies in bed with them, for no matter how hot they kept the stove, there was ice on the inside of the sod walls. A water bucket froze four feet from the stove. During the day, she kept them in their slings and wore a blanket around her body to keep in the heat. In the morning the tip of Solveig’s nose had frostbite.

“Uff da. Thank God Grace was better before this storm hit.” Kaaren warmed rocks in the open oven and placed them under their feet as they huddled by the stove. “I have never seen it as cold as this.”

Solveig put more wood on the fire. “At least we haven’t run out of wood, as I fear some have. You think Mr. Carlson and his mother are warm enough in that big house?”

“I am sure they are. They have a large furnace in the basement that heats the whole house, plus that big stove in the kitchen.” She studied her sister, who pinked under the scrutiny. “You care for him?”

Solveig nodded. “And he for me.” Her hand went to the nearly invisible scar. “In spite of all this.” She raised sober eyes to her sister. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Why no. Why would I? George Carlson is a fine man, and he needs a good wife. His mother wants him to have one too. I think she wants grandchildren mostly.”

“There’s plenty of room in that big house for many children.”

When the cold let up, Kaaren told Olaf that she felt she could come back to teaching the following week.

“That is good.” He smiled as he nodded. “Thank the Lord the babies are better. Most of the children are back too. I think we all got off lightly this winter. Only one death that I know of, besides Mrs. Booth, and that was old Grandma Anderson. She was ready to go home. At least that’s what her grandson said.”

“Have you heard how Mr. Booth is doing without his wife?”

He shook his head. “No, he hasn’t been at church, and I haven’t had time to go out there. I’ll ask around.”

“Is there anything else I should know about the school children?”

“Not that I know of. I’ve left their papers and marks on the desk. Think I’ll start making a real desk for the teacher. That bench isn’t too good.”

Kaaren drove to school in the morning, leaving the team in the
shed like always. The children greeted her joyfully and gathered around her to ask about the babies and tell her how happy they were she was back.

One of the older boys shook his head. “My mor ain’t going to be too happy about this. Mor and Far, they think it is better we have a man for a teacher.”

Kaaren stared at him, her mouth agape. Were there others that felt that way too?

K
aaren taught through the week, having heard from two more families that a man should be teaching. Each report drove a spear directly into her heart.

“They got more nerve than sense.” Solveig stomped her feet when she sat down in the sleigh. “To think after all you done for them, why I . . .” She spluttered to a close.

“It isn’t everybody, but I guess we will have to put it before the church on Sunday. I don’t know what else to do.” Kaaren looked back to make sure the twins were secure in their basket and covered well, then clucked the horses into a trot. Even the jingling bells failed to cheer her.

Lord, is this the end of my dream? I was so happy you gave me a place to teach, and you know how much I love it. Am I not doing a good enough job?
She sniffed and swallowed the moisture burgeoning in the back of her nose and throat.
I will not cry over this. I will not.

“I’m tempted to speak my mind, surely I am,” Solveig said.

“You’ll probably get your chance. We have the quilting bee at our house tomorrow.” Never had she wanted anything less. If only she could tell them all to stay home, or—she thought a moment. She could ask Ingeborg to take it. The thought pleased her greatly, but what would be her reason? Say the twins weren’t up to it? But that would be a lie! She drew in enough cold air to make her cough. No, she couldn’t tell a lie like that. The quilting bee would meet at her house as planned.

With her mind in such a turmoil, the trip home passed from one hoof beat to the next.

Praying for another blizzard didn’t help either. The sun rose,
turning the snowy fields to glitter and glass that smote the eyes and stole the breath from the soul.

When the women began to arrive the next day, Kaaren put on her best company smile and her warmest welcome, even for those at whom she wanted to scream “Why?” The women chattered and laughed as they laid out their treasured pieces of different-colored cloths. They admired the growing twins and passed them around so everyone took a turn holding them. Sophie gurgled and cooed, flashing her smile to them all, while Grace lay more passive, as if studying each of her admirers. The Christmas program came in for more praises, and Kaaren thanked them for all their hard work on the costumes. When the talk turned to Mrs. Booth and her fear of the wind, more than one shuddered, knowing and fearing they all could be as susceptible.

“We got to stick together,” Agnes said, “and look out for one another. You know these men of ours, though they be good souls, they don’t understand. Especially one like poor Auduna, who had no young’uns underfoot and making noise of their own. You can’t hear what’s going on outside so much that way, and when you need to touch someone, you just grab the closest and hug ’em. Children always hug back.” She stroked the downy cheek of the quiet baby in her arms, drawing forth a smile in return for her own.

“Ja, though sometimes you pray for a few moments of silence.” Dyrfinna Odell said, rolling her eyes upward.

The gentle laughter that circled the room knit them all closer together.

“I heard your baby was real sick,” Hildegunn Valders said. “Don’t you think it is hard on them to take them to school every day like you been doing? I mean, I know Solveig helps care for them, but when they get older and are awake more . . .” She glanced around the group for support.

Kaaren forced herself to look up and smile cheerfully. “We’ve been able to work it out so far, and I . . .”

“Ja, so far.” The woman nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I, and all of us, we appreciate what you done for our children. We just don’t want you to suffer for being so kind.” She looked up, obviously pleased with herself for managing this so well.

Solveig, seated on one side of Kaaren, muttered under her breath, her needle flashing in and out of the bits of cloth in her hands.

Kaaren glanced to the other side to see Ingeborg tighten her lips.
Oh, Lord, please, I don’t want a division here
.

“So, we thought”—Hildegunn waited for nods from the women on either side of her chair—“we thought that since we have a man here to teach now, you would rather stay home and raise your little family without the pressure of teaching the school too.” The words came out in a rush.

Kaaren nodded, trying to give herself time to think of the right words to say. “I see.”

“You know, it is more appropriate for a man to teach a school, especially with some of our boys so grown already.” Hildegunn’s voice took on its usual bossy tone.

That did it.

“More appropriate?” Ingeborg spit out the
t
. “You weren’t looking for appropriate when Kaaren volunteered to teach and use her own money to buy books and school supplies because some people can’t afford to buy the books their children need. You were just grateful, some of you, for a teacher. In fact, although some of your children had a bit of book learning already, others didn’t know the first thing about reading or numbers when they should have.” The accusation caused two women to study the pieces of cotton goods in their hands.

“Now, Ingeborg, don’t get your skirt in a twist. We don’t mean no harm by this. We just want what is best for these two little angels here.” Hildegunn frowned at Ingeborg.

Just then Sophie let out a wail as if she’d been poked with a needle. Kaaren rose to her feet, grateful for the break. If she sat there much longer, she might say something she’d be sorry for later. She picked up the wailing baby and took her to the other side of the stove to quiet her.

“Just who is this ‘we’?” Agnes asked in a quiet voice. “I haven’t heard any of this discussion before. I am more than happy with the way things are right now. Joseph is, too, and our boys always learned good, because for the last two years—before some of you even moved here—Kaaren has been teaching our families book learning. I tried, but she is so much better at it. If she wants to continue teaching, I say she should have that choice. If she wants to quit, then we can look for someone else to take over and we should count ourselves lucky she helped us out.”

“But we have a man here who can do it now!” Hildegunn acted as if the matter were settled.

“Does anyone have some blue pieces?” quiet Dyrfinna asked.
“Blue would look so nice right about here.” Someone handed her a piece, and after she expressed her thanks, the discussion returned to quilting.

When Hildegunn started to say something else, Brynja, the peacemaker, quieted her friend with a hand on her arm.

“What have you heard from Penny?” Ingeborg asked, her jaw relaxing.

“She is happy as a lark. She loves going to high school and loves working at the hotel.” Agnes raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “And still loves Hjelmer.”

“Has she heard from him?”

“Not one letter. . . .”

“You aren’t serious?”

“I keep hoping.”

“You and Penny. I think she should have let herself see if she could fall in love with Modan Clauson. He is a good man, but—”