A Land to Call Home (47 page)

“Good thing the last letter said a niece of mine was hoping to come this summer. She can take Solveig’s place.” Kaaren carried a wide awake, smiling twin on each hip. “These two are getting much too big to carry together.”

“Goodie will come help you.”

“You seen the looks between her and Olaf?” Kaaren raised one eyebrow. “You ask me, falling in love must be in the water or something.”

“Or something.”

The summer chores of gardening, making cheese and butter, butchering the young chickens, and harvesting fruits and vegetables both for their own storage and for Solveig to take to the Bonanza farm kept everyone busy from before dawn to moonrise. When there was enough moonlight, the men continued to break sod until about midnight. Ingeborg wished to go to the freedom of woods and fields, but there was no time. Baptiste and Thorliff, with Hans tagging along to learn from them, became intrepid hunters and fishermen, bringing back deer, rabbit, ducks and geese, game hens, and fish. The smokehouse sent up fragrant smoke continually, and there was always another hide that needed tanning. In between their other chores, the boys continued to split shingles, still racing with the Baard boys as to who could produce the most.

By mid-July, when the corn was higher than the horses’ knees, the cultivator could no longer work the rows, so anyone with an extra minute took out a hoe to chop weeds and loosen the soil. The rains came as if on demand, and with the hot summer sun, Ingeborg often said she could measure how much the plants grew overnight.

The chief topic of conversation at the quilting bees that summer was what to do about a school teacher. Olaf would be minding the sack house and making sure the water tower was kept full for the train. The only way he could teach school was to wait until after all the grain was harvested and shipped. That might be near Christmas.

Kaaren kept out of the conversations. Deep in her heart still
dwelt a hurt feeling or two from the slight last winter. But she never thought beyond caring for her two growing daughters, rejoicing in the babe within. She continued to wonder why Lars not only paid no attention to Grace, but he seemed to deliberately ignore the silent child. Sophie had already decided she was her father’s girl, turning on every ounce of charm in her wriggling little body when she saw or heard her father. Kaaren stroked the cheek of the silent baby in her arms. How would she help this one learn to talk when she couldn’t hear? How could she forgive the father who ignored one of his daughters?

“So, how will I find her?” Far to the west on the railroad track-laying crew, Hjelmer sat in the open door of the sleeping car, swinging his feet and enjoying the breeze blowing through the house on wheels.

“You spent enough time in Fargo. You think maybe she ain’t there anymore?”

“I even tried the school, but the old lady at the desk said they can’t give out the names and addresses of their pupils.” He mimicked the prim woman’s tone.

“You wrote to her aunt yet?” Leif asked. When Hjelmer shook his head, Leif slapped him on the shoulder. “You stubborn Norwegian, you. Wouldn’t that be the easiest way to find out where this wonderful young woman lives? I’m beginning to think you made her up. There can be no one as perfect as Penny.”

“Not even Katja?” Hjelmer sent a sly glance to the side.

“That’s different. She’s at least here and engaged to me, no matter what those foul-minded fools around the camp say.” He bumped shoulders with Hjelmer. “Took her a while to figure out who really was the best man, but I convinced her.”

“Why didn’t you just marry her and stay in St. Paul?”

“Can’t afford a wife yet. I didn’t make a killing on land sales like someone else we all know.” Leif tipped his head back and rolled it from side to side to stretch out his neck. “Think I’ll just buy one of those pieces of land from you and go back to farming like my father. If the land is as good as you say, we should make a fair living.”

“The Peterson piece would be a good one, though no one is farming it now. The barn and house are both sod but they seemed
sound. Sorry, but I already sold the Booth place.”

“You told me all this more than once.”

“Then you know that it is there for you. Brockhurst at the bank in Grand Forks will give you a loan with no trouble with the amount you got saved.” Hjelmer jumped to the ground. “Think I’ll take a walk before turning in.”

“You better watch out for Big Red, he done heard you learned a mighty lot about poker over the winter.” Leif headed for the tents where his laundress lived. “See you later.”

“Uff da.” One more thing to worry about other than where was Penny? Had she forgotten him? Perhaps she’d found someone better?

“Why you wearing such a long face?” Mrs. Johnson asked Penny one hot and humid night in July. They were sitting in rockers on the back porch of the hotel, hoping for some stray breeze to waft by and cool them off.

“Huh?” Penny jumped in the near darkness. “I . . . I was watching the fireflies.”

“Fireflies might be pretty, child, but they don’t bring out such sadness in most people.”

“Donald wants to marry me.”

“So?”

“So.” Penny sighed and propped her chin on the heels of her hands. “So . . .” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What’s happened to Hjelmer? Where is he?” Only the purring of the white cat threading its way between their legs broke the silence. Penny reached to stroke the fluffy head and down the back. “Is he still alive?”

“I thought you was falling in love with Donald Moen. Looks to me that way.” Mrs. Johnson set her chair to rocking.

“I could be. I just don’t know. How can I be sure until I see Hjelmer again?”

“Or find out what happened to him?”

“Ja, that too.” Penny picked up the purring cat and nestled him against her chest. The cat licked her chin with a raspy tongue, then settled in for some serious kneading of the girl’s thigh with feline front feet.

“Have you written about this to your aunt, asked her questions?”

“I used to, but she never had any answers for me. Now . . .” She stroked the cat, who purred so loud it drowned out the song of the crickets. “Now, I don’t want to make any decisions yet. I just want to graduate from school and . . . and . . .”

“And find Hjelmer.”

“Ja, I guess.” The sigh she heaved nearly dumped the cat on the floor. He nipped her hand in protest.

I
had so hoped yours would be the first wedding in our new church.”

“Ja, well, it is not exactly new, but the schoolhouse makes a good church nevertheless.” Solveig stroked her hand down the rose watered-silk skirt of the wedding dress Kaaren and Ingeborg had made for her. After the wedding it would be her good dress, but for now, it made her feel like a beautiful bride. The high neck, trimmed in cream lace, framed a face that glowed with joy. The lace flowed down the sides of the front placket, edged the leg of mutton long sleeves, and banded the skirt.

“I wish Mor and Far were here.” Her voice sounded much like it had the nights long ago when the sisters had shared a bed in their parents’ home in Valdrez.

“I wish they could see their grandchildren, our home here, and the one you will soon be head of.”

“That . . . that house frightens me.”

“Why ever? It is beautiful.”

“I know. That’s the problem. I’m not used to such fine things. What if I break something?”

“Just so long as it isn’t George’s heart, you needn’t worry about it.” Kaaren got to her feet, swollen in the summer’s heat. “Uff da. September in Dakota Territory sure ain’t the best time to be with child. Leastways this time I’m only carrying one. I looked like I was ready to deliver any day last time, and that was at only six months along.” She rubbed her back with her fists, then stretched as high as she could reach, her fingertips brushing the herbs she had drying in the rafters.

“What did you think of the new pastor that preached last Sunday?” Kaaren asked.

“I like him, and I’m glad he agreed to stay over long enough to marry us.” Solveig peered in the small mirror that hung above the washbasin. “Kaaren, answer me true.”

“I always do.”

“Do you notice the scar?” Her finger trailed the faint line from brow to chin.

Kaaren shook her head. “Not anymore. I think it always looked worse to you than it did to any of us.” She paused. “I’m more concerned about any scars remaining on your heart.”

Solveig whirled from the glass. “What do you mean?”

“You were very angry with God and everybody else when you came to us.”

“I know, but I finally asked God to forgive me and I know He did. What with all of you praying for me to get well, how could I not? At first I figured it was all God’s fault, with my leg so tore up and my face . . .” She fingered the scar again. “The meanness just slipped out, like if I didn’t say things, I would blow up from the inside out. And then, little by little, like my leg healing, the awful feelings went away and it was like always, the way Mor and Far raised us. I think being away from God was the worst part.” She scrubbed one hand over the other, then raised tear-bright eyes to her sister. “But I’m not away from Him any longer, thanks to you and Lars and Ingeborg and Haakan. Even Metiz made me remember how our Father takes care of us, how He healed me, and she doesn’t believe in God the way we do.”

“Don’t be too sure of that.” Kaaren crossed the room and turned her sister around. “Let’s get you out of this before the men come in for supper and something gets splashed on it.” She hugged her sister and unbuttoned the long row of covered buttons. “I am going to miss you.”

Solveig laid her hand over her sister’s. “I’ll miss you, too, but at least you have Ingeborg close by and babies to keep you busy.”