A Touch of Grace (5 page)

That thought had been nagging at her. She hesitated to call it a fear because she believed what the Bible said when it commanded
Fear not
. Fear not, so simple and easy to say, but actually doing it was the hard part. While Haakan never complained, hadn’t she seen him flinch sometimes when twisting? Or was her imagination trying to run off with her? It had happened before. She held her cup in both hands and closed her eyes.

“Please, Lord, take care of Haakan. If there is something wrong, bring healing, give him the strength to do what he feels needs to be done. I know you love him better than I can. I thank you for giving me such a fine man to love and grow old with.”

Uff da! What’s with all this thinking on getting older? Just get busy
and quit sitting in the sunshine. It’s making you feel as lazy as those cats
sleeping in the sun by the barn wall
. She tossed the coffee dregs on the rosebush, which already had buds. Once spring came, plants in North Dakota rushed to grow and bloom just like the people did.
Now if I
had a table set up here, I could bring out all the bookwork
. The front porch faced west, so it was still in the shade. The cottonwood she’d planted as a sapling so many years ago now shaded the south side of the house, as did the clump of birches Haakan had brought her from Minnesota one year and planted by the back porch. They’d planted a line of elm trees and one of pines to the north as a windbreak, filling it in with Juneberry bushes, chokecherries, and wild roses, making it a haven for grouse and pheasants. Samuel ran one of his snare lines for rabbits there.

The chore of bookwork was never appealing. Her ledgers lined a shelf over the desk Onkel Olaf had made before he took his family and furniture crafting business off to Grafton. Thinking of that reminded her that she owed Goodie a letter. What she wouldn’t give for a visit from her friend of so many years. She returned to the house, checked the rising bread, put more wood in the stove, and defying all the work awaiting her, retrieved a tablet and pencil from the desk. After pouring another cup of coffee, she headed back outside to the wash bench, where she sat down and leaned against the sun-warmed wall.

Dear Goodie,

How I wish you were here to enjoy the sunshine with me. There is just enough breeze to be comfortable. Mrs. Robin is sitting on her nest in the cottonwood. I can see the nest easily because I put out bits of red and yellow yarn, and she and her mate snatched them right up to weave in with the twigs and grasses.

I just bandaged Jonathan Gould’s hand. I did tell you he was spending the summer here in my last letter, at least I think I did. This is Mr. Gould’s second son—actually his first son with his second wife. He had one son and one daughter by his first wife, and then his first wife died in childbirth, along with the baby. Mr. Gould had twin boys and another girl with his second wife, so Jonathan has younger brothers and a young sister. Mr. Gould believes this son needs to learn about manual labor.

As we know, there is plenty of man-ual and woman-ual labor to be done around here.

She smiled at the play on words, knowing it would make Goodie smile too.

I am so grateful that Ellie shares her letters from home. You raised a fine young woman there, my friend, and I am grateful she is married to Andrew. I am just sorry you don’t get to watch little Carl growing up, as we do. He is a ray of sunshine in our lives. Such a happy baby.

We have quilting tomorrow, and Grace and Astrid have agreed to cook for the men so that Kaaren and I can both go. Did you hear yet of Sophie’s two little ones? Hamre, after his father, and Joy. They are a handful. They bring back memories of Sophie and Grace as newborns who were so much smaller.

Ingeborg paused for a moment, remembering their grief when they realized tiny Grace could not hear.
And yet what a wonderful joy
she is to this family. And how true to her name
. May the new little Joy also grow into her name.

I know Ellie feels torn whether to stay with the girls or take her part as one of the married women who will continue the work of our church. She is thinking of helping with the Sunday school class for the littlest ones when fall comes, but I’m sure she has told you that.

In your last letter you asked if things are better with Hildegunn Valders. One would think she’d be happy as a cat with a mouse since she hears all the gossip first thing at the post office. But no matter how hard I try, she cannot seem to forgive me and mine. She made a snide remark at the last quilting, and Mrs. Magron, bless her little heart, stood up and, hands on her hips, told Hildegunn to let bygones be gone and be grateful she has two fine men for sons and she’d better learn a lesson or two in gratitude. We were all so shocked that all we could do was stare. Hildegunn, of course, humphed and glared, but what could she say? I take that back, the day Mrs. Valders is tongue-tied is the day I know we should be checking to see if Jesus arrived unannounced. I should cross that out, I know, but we can laugh together at least.

Well, I better get back and set the rice to boiling. I cannot wait for the new potatoes. I was going to make noodles but ended up stitching a certain young man’s hand instead. Oh, I read the cleverest thing in a magazine. Make your noodle dough like usual but without quite as much flour. Then, using a wooden spoon, force the dough through the colander and into boiling water. Boil for five or so minutes until the noodles rise to the top, drain and put into cold water, then drain again and brown in butter with some chopped onions and whatever seasonings you desire. Serve with a meat or under roast chicken. Everyone raved about my new noodles.

Graduation went beautifully; all our little girls now think they are grown up.

I always look forward to letters from you but would be overjoyed with a long visit. Cook up lots for Onkel Olaf, and then you, Arne, and Rachel get on the train and come kiss your grandson.

With love and joy,

Your friend, Ingeborg

She read it through, added a word here and there, and folded it so she could put it in an envelope as soon as she went back into the house. After making a face at the cold coffee in her cup, she tossed the liquid under the rosebush and stopped for a minute on the top step to shade her eyes and search the fields for the teams. Haakan was cultivating corn with the new cultivator he and Lars had designed during the winter. Four up could pull the machine, which covered three rows at a time, with Haakan riding instead of walking behind. Hoeing corn would be a thing of the past, or at least that’s what they hoped.

A hammer on metal rang from the machine shed, telling her that Lars was either tearing apart or repairing another piece of machinery.

She patted her fairly new washing machine as she walked past it. The men weren’t the only ones to have new machinery. Penny, who loved having the latest household tools, had shown her a new kerosene-heated model of the flatirons she’d heated for so long on her kitchen stove. Because the new iron stayed hot, ironing would go faster without repeated trips to the woodstove.

When she rang the triangle for dinner, five loaves of cooling bread waited on the counter. She’d made gravy to go over the rice, sliced the venison, and cooked the dandelion greens Astrid had picked for her before she left for the surgery. Fresh greens were such a treat before the garden produce was ready, especially when cooked with bacon left over from breakfast. With the table set, she sliced the bread, holding a heel to her nose to inhale the wonderful fragrance. Nothing smelled as good as fresh bread.

Barney’s barking would have let her know the men were at the barn if the jangling of harness hadn’t already informed her. She set the platter of bread on the table, sliced the cheese she’d brought in from the well house, and pressed the butter out of the mold and onto a plate.

By the time she could hear the men at the wash bench, all was ready, and she stood back to see if she’d forgotten anything.

“We found us a pilgrim,” Haakan called from outside, “so you better put another plate on the table.”

Without checking the window to see who it might be, she took a plate from the cupboard and set out the silverware. Company was always welcome. She quickly changed her dirty apron for a clean one and went to the screen door.

“Why, Hjelmer, I didn’t know you were home again.” She pushed the door open and welcomed the traveler in. As usual, Hjelmer’s grin made her smile more widely. As the youngest of the Bjorklund brothers and the legislative representative from their district, Hjelmer was away more often than he was home, much to the dismay of his wife, Penny.

“Just got back yesterday.” He hung his hat on the rack by the door and inhaled. “Ah, Ingeborg, you’ve been baking bread. I came at just the right time.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Did you save the heel for me?”

“How could I, when I didn’t know you were coming?” Something was up. She could tell by the look in his eyes. Always one with forward-thinking ideas, Hjelmer often came to ask Lars and Haakan for advice or blessing on his latest venture, whatever that might be. “Besides, I didn’t hear your automobile drive up.”

“I came on horseback.”

“You mean that smoking monster wouldn’t start … again?”

“Now, don’t go make disparaging remarks about my Oldsmobile.”

“Why not? Everyone else does.” Haakan hung up his hat too. He looked to Ingeborg. “I hear you’ve been doctoring today.”

Ingeborg nodded and smiled at Jonathan, who trailed in after Andrew. As the men took their places at the table, she slid a heel of bread onto Hjelmer’s plate, earning a wink from him and a headshake from her husband.

After Haakan said grace, she set the platters on the table and stood back a moment to watch them help themselves and pass the food around the table.

“So what brought you out this way?” Haakan asked.

Hjelmer looked up from his full plate and caught Ingeborg’s gaze. “Come sit down, Ingeborg. You need to hear this too.”

At the look in his eyes, she caught her breath. Something was afoot, and she had a feeling she would not be happy with the news.

Hjelmer laid his fork and knife on his plate. “I’ve been offered a position in government that requires me to move to Bismarck. I told Penny about it last night, and now I’m talking to the rest of you.”

“And Penny said?” Ingeborg’s voice broke on the words.

Hjelmer sighed. “Penny is having a very hard time with this.”

“Have you accepted the job?”

“No. I knew I had to come home and see if we could make arrangements. We have a lot of questions. Do we sell the store and the machinery business, find someone to manage them for us, or … ?”

“Or stay here.”

“Right. But if I take the position, I would have to resign my seat in the legislature or at least not run again in the fall.” He sighed again. “It is a good opportunity.”

“But you would have to move.” Ingeborg used the corner of her apron to dry her eyes.

“Either that or never see my family. You know how Penny already feels about my being gone so much.”

“She loves her store.”

“I know.”

“Would you have to sell it? I mean, can you afford a house in Bismarck without selling the businesses here?”

Hjelmer buttered the heel of bread, staring at it longer than necessary before raising his head to look directly at Haakan. “I don’t know. Most of our money is tied up in the businesses.”

You can’t move away. Lord, don’t let them move. But what if this is
the plan you have for them?
Ingeborg tried to unscramble her thoughts, but they tumbled over each other in spite of her good intentions. Penny couldn’t leave. They were all used to Hjelmer being gone, but Penny and her store were part of the warp that held the tapestry of the town together. Newcomers were threads in the picture, but without strong warp, the piece would not continue to grow. Ingeborg glanced around her kitchen. The zinc dry sink came from the Blessing General Store, as did the jars that held her canning, the crocks of all sizes, the cast-iron frying pans and pots, her sewing machine, the new washing machine, the gingham she had turned into curtains for the windows. Penny loved stocking new inventions for the women of Blessing. Hjelmer brought in the latest in machinery, and his blacksmith shop not only reset wheels but repaired some of the farm machinery. His windmills dotted the countryside, providing fresh water for humans and animals.

“You can’t leave Blessing.” Ingeborg tried to put a touch of teasing in her voice, but the cracking was a dead giveaway. “Please don’t leave.”