Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (16 page)

Karl returned that afternoon from taking Amalie, the
children, and a wagonload of bedding and supplies to the soddy. Jan and Søren cleared
out Jan’s carpentry shop and made up beds for themselves. Karl, Fraulein Engel
decided, could continue sleeping in his and Amalie’s bed. But he was no longer
to have direct contact with those outside the house.

The three men said little as they went about their chores as
usual. Karl walked to the soddy each day to bring fresh milk and speak to
Amalie.

“
Pappa!
” Little Karl, Arnie, and Kjell rushed toward
him when they saw him coming, but Amalie held them back, as instructed.

Three days later Karl complained of an unrelenting headache
and began coughing. Fraulein Engel sent him to bed. The next morning she called
Jan and Søren.

“Your brother is very ill,
Herr
Thoresen.”

Jan stared at this kindhearted woman, trying to understand
what her eyes were telling him. “We will pray,” he replied with firmness.

“
Ja
,” was her answer.

She reported that Sigrün and Kristen were holding their own.
She did not answer Jan when he asked if they were improving.

That morning it was Jan who walked to the soddy with the fresh
milk. Amalie stared at Jan when she saw that he, not Karl had come.

“He is sick then?” Amalie whispered.

Jan turned his face away but nodded.

“And Sigrün? Kristen? Are they any better?”

“They are no worse,” was all Jan could tell her.

~~**~~

The Thoresens’ neighbors received word of the sickness through
Fraulein Engel’s brother, who spread the news to the German church. Many in
their church had been the recipient of Elli’s care and compassion in the past
year. Yet, as much as their friends wished to help them, they kept a strict
distance from the Thoresen house and barn. The way in which the sickness—whatever
it was—had decimated the Becker family was much too fresh in their minds.

Henrik and Abigael coordinated an influx of meals, leaving
them near the pump each day where Jan or Søren would retrieve and distribute them.
Amalie, too, cooked for them, but Jan would not allow her to bring food to them
or to the house. Instead either he or Søren would fetch what she prepared.

Elli scarcely left the girls’ sickroom except to go to the
kitchen when she needed something. Perhaps once a day she spoke to Jan from
behind the screened and latched kitchen door.

Three days after Karl took to his bed, Jan saw Elli’s pronounced
exhaustion . . . and her fear. “Jan, Sigrün may be slowly
getting better, but . . . our
datter
is still the same.”

“And Jan,” Elli said carefully. “Jan, my love, I am not
well.”

Ice swept down Jan’s back, numbing his fingers and his feet
as he realized Elli’s eyes were glazed with fever. He stared through the door, Fraulein
Engel’s prescribed barrier between them.

“How? I don’t understand! You had no flea bites!” Jan
protested.

Elli shook her head once but the effort pained her. “I do
not know.”

He could see how Elli longed for him to hold her, and Jan
wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms about her and shut out the world. Jan
slowly raised his hand and placed it on the screen. Elli lifted hers and placed
it against his.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I will do anything to protect
you and our family.”

Elli swayed on her feet and Fraulein Engel appeared behind her,
steadying her. “You must go to bed now,
Liebling
.” Fraulein Engel shot
Jan a look of compassion and he stared dumbfounded as she ushered Elli away
from the door.

But Jan could not bear it. He shook the door and, when the
latch would not give, he wrenched it from the frame and threw it aside. He had
made up his mind.

Elli and Fraulein Engel were not quite to the top of the
stairs. He stood at the bottom and called after them, “I will help nurse Karl
and the girls,” he shouted. “I will help nurse Elli.”

The two women turned. “
Nei!
Oh,
nei
, Jan!”
Elli cried. “What if we both sicken? Our children would be left orphans! Think
of our children, Jan, my love!”

Elli’s panic was as real as Fraulein Engel’s anger. The
German woman sat Elli on the top step and strode down the stairs, her
expression ferocious. She shoved Jan into the kitchen and toward the door, all
the while shouting at him in German.

Jan did not understand her words but would never lift a hand
to her, so he folded his arms and resolutely stood still. She could not move
him.

“
Pappa!
”

Jan turned. Søren was standing in the doorway, his face a
mask of fear. “Is
Mamma
sick? Is she? Fraulein Engel is saying you and
Mamma
could both die!
Pappa!
”

Fraulein Engel continued to shout and push him toward the
door. Jan looked at Søren’s face once more then held up his hands.

“Søren, tell Fraulein Engel I wish to say something to her,”
Jan said quietly. Søren did as he asked and Fraulein Engel stopped shouting.

Jan faced the woman and studied her tired, worn face—this
fine, godly woman, who had given so much of herself for so many. “Søren,” Jan
said again. “Please tell Fraulein Engel that I have made up my mind. She must
accept my decision. I will help her with the sick ones.”

He turned to Søren as he spoke those words. “And I am sorry,
my
sønn
, but your
mamma
and your
søster
need me. You, too,
must accept this.”

He gestured. “Stay out of the house. Go tell Henrik what is
happening; he will help you with the chores. And tell your
tante
Amalie.”

A resigned Fraulein Engel had Jan place a kerchief over his
nose and mouth and wash with soap and water. Together they put Elli to bed.
Then Fraulein Engel took Jan to see Karl, Kristen, and Sigrün. That was when he
saw how dire the situation was.

O God!
his heart cried.
Be my strength, Lord! We
need you desperately.

Karl passed away two evenings later. Jan prayed over him in
the morning and then had seen Karl watching him with pain-racked eyes, eyes
that pleaded with him.

Jan pulled the kerchief down and gripped Karl’s hand. “I
will take care of your family,
Bror
. I promise you.” Jan choked on the
words, choked back his tears. “I promise you I will.”

Karl could not speak, but his eyes were fixed on Jan and his
face grew peaceful. When his eyelids slid shut in sleep he did not wake again.
Jan stayed until the sun set when Karl breathed his last.

Jan shuddered as he thought of telling Amalie and her
children, and his breast ached with every breath. He had no further time to
mourn just then, for he heard shrieking from the girls’ bedroom. He ran and
found Fraulein Engel struggling with Sigrün.

She was trying to carry Sigrün from the room but his
ten-year-old niece, even weakened by the sickness, fought Fraulein Engel,
screaming and kicking. Concerned the girl would do herself harm, Fraulein Engel
returned her to her bed.

“What is it?” Jan cried. “What are you doing?”

The woman ignored Jan and busied herself tucking Sigrün back
under the covers, speaking soothing words to her. Soon Sigrün calmed and her
head fell onto her pillow.

Fraulein Engel gestured Jan to the door and they stepped
into the hallway together. She took a breath and finally looked Jan in the
face.

“Kristen,” she said softly. “Kristen is dying.” She searched
for a word Jan would understand. “Kristen
døende
,” she said using a Riksmaal
word. “
Verstehst du?
” Do you understand?

Jan reeled against the wall. He understood.
Fraulein
Engel had been trying to remove Sigrün from the room so that she would not witness
Kristen’s passing
.

His little datter dying? How could it be?
Jan knelt
by Kristen’s bedside.

The sickness had ravished her young body. Now at the end,
the form under the blankets was small, her face thin, the skin waxy and transparent.
Jan found her little hand and covered it in both of his. Then Sigrün was beside
him, huddled against his side, keeping vigil with him.

Kristen did not wake but slipped away quietly while Jan
prayed for her and prayed for his family. When he knew she was gone, he
wept—long, racking sobs to which he could scarcely give voice, for he could not
breathe.

Sigrün flung her hands about Jan’s neck and pressed against
him until he opened his arms to her. She buried her face in his shoulder and clung
to him as he grieved. Jan felt her hot tears trickle down his neck, but she
uttered not a sound.

Night had fully fallen when Jan awoke with a start, lifting his
head from Kristen’s bed. He still held Sigrün against his chest and he could
tell by her even breathing that she, too, was sleeping.

Fraulein Engel had covered Kristen’s face while Jan and
Sigrün slept in exhausted anguish. Jan hugged Sigrün to him as he stood up, but
she awoke.

She would not allow Jan to put her to bed; she clung even
tighter. Jan, giving in, wrapped her in a blanket, held her near, and went
downstairs to the kitchen where he found Fraulein Engel.

She gave Sigrün a cursory examination. “
Gut!
” She
turned to go upstairs, then stopped. She pointed to the kitchen door and Jan
understood. He opened the door and found Søren seated on the steps, weeping
alone in the dark.

“Fraulein Engel has told you?” Jan asked.

“
Ja, Pappa
,” he sniffed. “Is that Sigrün? Is she
better?”

“She is getting better, I think. See?” Jan stepped back from
the open doorway as Søren drew near. “I’m sorry I broke the screen door,
Sønn
,
but I still want you to stay back and safe,
ja
?”

Søren gave a little wave to Sigrün who held tight to Jan’s
neck. She lifted a hand in return.

“What of
Mamma
?” he asked anxiously.

“I will check on her soon.” Jan’s throat tightened, the
sadness overtaking him again. Sigrün reached up and pressed a hand to his
cheek. “
Takk
, little one,” he whispered.

He looked at Søren. “I am sorry you are alone this night,
Sønn
.
It is a heavy burden to bear.” Søren bowed his head, and Jan longed to comfort
him, but he could not.

“Will you go to Henrik tomorrow and tell him we need him?
Amalie will need Abigael, too.”

When Fraulein Engel came downstairs an hour later, Jan could
see her weariness. Nevertheless, she took Sigrün when Jan placed her on her
lap. “I must go see your
Tante
Elli, Sigrün,” Jan whispered. “I promise
to come back.”

Sigrün released her hold and clung to Fraulein Engel.

Jan went first to Kristen’s room, almost to assure himself
that the nightmare was true and not something the dark of night had conjured.
Jan stood stock still and his heart pounded, for Kristen’s bed had been
stripped bare and her body was gone.

Jan ran to Karl and Amalie’s room. There he found Karl and
Kristen’s bodies, side by side, washed, and reverently wrapped in clean sheets.

Ah, Lord God, Fraulein Engel has done more for us than we
can ever repay.
Jan knelt by the bed and prayed for his brother’s wife and
children. He prayed for his own family. He prayed that God would give him
strength for the dark days ahead. And he prayed for Elli.

Morning dawned. Strengthened in his spirit, he stood and
went to see his wife.

Jan and Fraulein Engel had put Elli to bed in Søren’s room.
Jan placed the kerchief over his mouth and nose and cracked the door to see if
Elli was awake. She moaned and called for him. “
Jan! Jan!
” Her voice was
rough from coughing.

“I am here, Elli. Let me give you water to drink.” He sat
beside her, lifted her head, and helped her to sip.

“It hurts too much,” she whimpered.

“Then I will fetch warm tea with honey.” Jan moved to go but
Elli stopped him.

“
Nei!
Jan! Please . . . I heard so
many things in the night. I . . . Jan, I heard Sigrün screaming
and . . . Please tell me what has happened?”

Jan had not intended to tell Elli about Karl . . .
about Kristen . . . while she was so ill. He bowed his head now
and prayed again,
Lord, I need you right now. Elli needs you. I do not know
how to tell her! We are hopeless without you!

But Elli gave him the words. “Jan . . . is
our
datter
gone to heaven?”

Jan covered his eyes with his hand and choked on a sob. “
Ja
,
my love. She is gone to heaven.”

“O Jesus!” Elli cried. “O Jesus! Help me!”

Jan would not let her grieve alone. He removed the kerchief
and gathered her into his arms.

~~**~~

Hours later, Fraulein Engel knocked. “
Herr
Thoresen,
kommen
sie, bitte
.” She took over Elli’s care and sent Jan down to the kitchen. He
opened the door and saw Norvald and Inge, Henrik and Abigael, Rikkert and Duna,
and Brian and Fiona waiting a safe distance from the house for him. Henrik had
his arm about Søren’s shoulders. Søren’s friend Ivan stood at his side.

“We are truly sorry, Jan,” Henrik murmured, sorrow written
across his brow. “You cannot leave the house,
ja
? Who do you wish to
tell Amalie? ”

Jan saw the love and kindness on his friends’ faces. “Will
you and Abigael go, Henrik?”

Henrik nodded. “
Ja
, we will go.” He shuffled his feet
and glanced at Norvald who nodded. “Please tell us where to dig the graves, eh?
We would do this for your family. Søren will help us.”

Graves
!
Jan was crushed again.
I must put
my bror and my datter in the ground!
He gazed across the yard to where the
ground sloped up to the apple trees.

He pointed with his chin. “Elli and I buried our little baby
sønn
just there, below the apple trees.”

His thoughts wandered away for a moment. Norvald coughed
softly, calling him back.

“Will you mark off a place for Karl and Amalie and their
family? And on the other side of the baby’s grave, for us? . . .
For Kristen?”

We hadn’t planned a cemetery, Karl and I,
his
thoughts rambled
. Someday Karl and Amalie will lie there together. And Elli
and I will lie, side-by-side, near Kristen
.

“We will take care of it, Jan,” Norvald answered. He
understood what Jan was asking.

Amalie was able to grieve openly. Their neighbors and the
women of the church, particularly Heidi, gathered around her and took care of
the children and the cooking. The men set up an outdoor kitchen; Norvald and
Ivan brought the tables and benches from the German church. And all kept their
distance from the house and the sickness inside.

While Amalie wept and mourned, her sons, not understanding
the magnitude of their loss, alternately cried for their
pappa
or played
quietly. They endured the women of the church doting on them only because
watching their mother weep was too much to understand.

Jan watched silently from the kitchen doorway. His friends,
standing safely away from the porch, spoke their condolences. Sigrün, wrapped
warmly, stayed glued to Jan’s side and made no sound.

Other friends arrived as the morning wore on. Jan heard the
sounds of sawn lumber and hammered nails. In the background he glimpsed Adolphe
and Rakel Veicht. Adolphe stared at Jan but made no gesture.

When the men finished the caskets, they set them just at the
bottom of the steps. While Fraulein Engel put Sigrün to bed, Jan, by himself,
carried Karl’s wrapped body downstairs and outside. Mothers called their
children to their sides, and his friends moved their families farther back.

With every muscle of his back and arms groaning, Jan lowered
his brother slowly and carefully into the larger of the two caskets.

“Please, Jan!” Amalie begged, straining against Henrik and
Abigael. “Please let me only
see
my husband once more!”

“I am sorry, Amalie,” was Jan’s weary reply.

He returned a few minutes later with Kristen. His friends
and neighbors had restrained their grief as Jan laid Karl in his coffin, but at
the sight of Kristen’s tiny body they no longer could. Their open weeping
nearly undid Jan. He could not see through the mist covering his eyes as he
placed Kristen in the casket.

Hammer, nails, and lids lay nearby. But he could not place
the lid on Kristen’s coffin. His arms lost their strength and he could not
move.

“
Herr
Thoresen, let me help you,” a gentle voice
spoke by his side. Jan did not understand. Fraulein Engel took Jan’s hand and
they stood close to Kristen’s body. Fraulein Engel lifted the cloth from
Kristen’s face so Jan could see.

Jan blinked. It was Kristen . . .
but it
wasn’t Kristen
. He stared longer, sure of what he saw. He inhaled, feeling life-giving
air fill his lungs.
Ah, Lord. She is no longer here. She is with you
. He
breathed again.

Fraulein Engel led him to the lid. Jan offered a half smile to
her, this woman who had faithfully followed her calling. She smiled back and
nodded.

Jan placed the lid on Kristen’s coffin. Nail after nail he
drove into the fresh wood until it was fastened securely. He moved to Karl’s
casket and looked a question at Fraulein Engel.

“
Ja
,” she answered, and lifted the cloth from Karl’s
face.

“Amalie,” Jan called. “Come. Just you, please.”

Amalie stumbled toward them, her grief and pregnancy making
her clumsy.

“Stand just there,” Jan instructed, pointing to a spot a
foot from the coffin. “Do not touch him,
Søster
, I beg you.” He and Fraulein
Engel stood on the other side of the coffin, away from Amalie.

Grateful, Amalie nodded. “I thank you,
Bror
.”

She gazed down on Karl’s face, so changed by the sickness,
and sobbed once, covering her mouth with her hands.

“Do you see?” Jan asked. Wonder hung in his voice. “I looked
at Kristen, Amalie. She was not there! Do you see?”

“But I want him, Jan!
I want my husband!
” Amalie wailed.

“I know. My heart is breaking with you,” Jan whispered. “But
you are not putting Karl in the grave, do you see? He is not here. He is
already with Jesus!”

Amalie stared and sobbed again. But her brow furrowed. “I-I
think I see.” She gulped. “It is very like Karl but, no, it is
not
him!”

“Can you be comforted, Amalie?” Jan asked. “Now you know it
is not truly him we place in the ground this day?”

Amalie still stared at Karl’s face. Then, resolute, she
straightened her spine. “
Ja
. I know my
ektemann
, my husband, is
with the Lord, as the
Skriften
promises us.”

She turned to the other mourners and raised her voice. “I
know he will rise again, when our Savior returns.”

A chorus of amens affirmed her declaration. Amalie backed
away and Jan placed the lid on Karl’s coffin.

While Jan secured the lid to Karl’s coffin, he noticed Fraulein
Engel call Norvald’s wife Inge to her. Fraulein Engel, from a safe distance, spoke
a request. Inge nodded her agreement.

Then Jan and Fraulein Engel retreated to the kitchen. Six
men from the church carried Karl and four men, including Søren, carried
Kristen. Jan and Fraulein Engel watched them climb the slope, but they would
not go with them.

Norvald paused a safe distance from Jan. “Inge and I would
take Amalie and her boys home with us,” he told Jan. “Until the house is safe
again.”

“
Tusen takk
,” Jan answered. He went slowly up the
stairs to comfort his wife.

Elli’s fever increased during the day, and she thrashed and
writhed under her covers, deep in delirium. Fraulein Engel directed Jan to
bathe Elli in cool water to bring her fever down and she brought fresh, cold
water to Jan from the outside pump.

Jan did all Fraulein Engel asked; he did not leave Elli’s
side, even to sleep. Still, the day ended, and at nightfall Elli remained
unresponsive.

Jan awoke abruptly in the dark but did not know why. The
candle by Elli’s bed had guttered and gone out. He fumbled until he found and lit
a fresh one.

Elli was staring at him with bright, glittering eyes.

“Elli!” Jan caught up her hand. “My love! How do you feel?”

Her eyes closed for a moment, and Jan feared she had sunk back
into sleep. Then they opened again and fixed on Jan’s face. Jan felt the smallest
of pressure from her fingers in his hand.

“Jan,” she mouthed. Jan was quick to bring a cup to her lips
and bid her drink. “Jan,” she rasped, after she had taken a sip.

“I am here,” Jan answered. Even in the candlelight, he did
not like what he saw—the same waxy transparency he had noticed on Kristen’s skin,
the sense that Elli’s body was emptying itself of all that was her—leaving only
a mere husk in her place.

A wave of panic rushed toward him.
Don’t leave me, Elli!

“Jan,” she mouthed again.

“
Ja
, Elli! I am here!”

“I . . .
see
 . . .”

Something so holy, so pure, and so sweet descended with
those words that Jan stared, eyes wide, about the room.

“See . . .
him
 . . .”
Elli breathed.

Her gaze shifted beyond Jan, toward the ceiling, and Jan
saw
as her eyes cleared, the fever and pain gone. The hair on Jan’s arms rose as
Elli’s visage filled with awe.

“
Oh!
” A smile touched Elli’s mouth and remained, even
as her spirit lifted away.

Jan knelt by her bed, praying and weeping, until the earliest
morning light lit the window of the room. He had determined that he alone would
prepare Elli’s body for burial. By the time an exhausted Fraulein Engel woke
for the day, he was finished.

It was she who fell to her knees in open grief when she
stepped into the room and realized Elli was gone. “
M
eine Tochter! Meine Tochter!
”
My daughter! My daughter!
Fraulein Engel wept.

Jan went down to the kitchen and stripped off his clothes,
tossing them into a heap in the corner. With soap and the hottest water he could
bear, he bathed his head, arms, and chest and dressed in clean clothes.

He stepped outside and strode to the barn. Søren and Henrik
were mucking out the milking stations. Henrik noticed Jan first. He paused, and
a look of sad resignation crossed his face. He inclined his head toward Søren.

Jan nodded. Henrik, tears already washing his cheeks, left
the barn.

“Søren,” Jan spoke quietly.

Søren turned. Jan held out his arms—he saw the exact moment
when his
sønn
realized what his father had come to tell him. With an
anguished cry, Søren ran to his father.

Jan sent Henrik to spread the news. “We will bury Elli
tomorrow,” he stated, staring into the distance. Later Jan set about building a
casket for Elli.

“Come,
Sønn
. We will build her a fine coffin
together, eh?” He and Søren sanded and oiled the wood until it gleamed. They
took the coffin into the living room and set it upon two chairs.

Jan brought Elli’s body downstairs and placed it inside the
coffin. “Stay on the other side,
Sønn
, and come no closer,” Jan instructed.

Then, as Fraulein Engel had done with Kristen and Karl, Jan
lifted the corner of the sheet from Elli’s face. The hint of a smiled remained
on her lips.

Ah, Lord! I can still feel your presence!

“My
Mamma
is so beautiful,” Søren murmured.

“
Ja
, she is,” Jan agreed.

He sent Søren from the house and fastened the coffin closed.
Then he took another bath and changed clothes yet again. Fraulein Engel
gathered his clothes and tied them in a clean sheet.

Early in the morning Jan arose and helped Søren with the
chores. The smell of a fire drew both of them into the yard. They found
Fraulein Engel burning every mattress in the house in the fire pit used for
laundry. On the ground beside the fire were bundles of soiled clothing, sheets,
and blankets.

Jan fetched the two heavy cauldrons for her and placed them
over the fire. Fraulein Engel began filling them with water.

“She is much better today,” Fraulein Engel motioned toward
the house.

Jan saw Sigrün curled in a chair, wrapped in a clean blanket.
Fraulein Engel had placed the chair under a window where Sigrün could watch her
work.

Families began arriving midmorning, and Jan realized what
Fraulein Engel was about when several of the women, directed by Inge, draped
new, clean mattresses on a length of fence near the house. Even as more people
arrived, Fraulein Engel busied herself cleaning every bedroom, washing the
walls, floors, and bare bedsteads with harsh soap and scalding water. Sigrün
would live and was no longer contagious.
Fraulein Engel was expunging the
sickness from the house
.

Jan and Søren brought Elli’s casket outside.

Brian and Fiona’s little daughter handed Søren a single
faded rose, the last of the year. “For your mother,” she whispered. Søren
accepted it, choking on his thanks, but Meg’s kindness would remain with him. Then
Søren ran from the house and hid, and Jan understood.

He was too old to be mothered as the women of the church had
mothered his small cousins, and too stricken to face the men of the church. His
sønn
needed to be alone to grieve the loss of his mother and sister.

Jan wanted to run and hide, too, but he knew he could not. He
could not run and he could not grieve. Not yet.

Fear of the sickness still caused his friends to keep their
distance. Jan held himself rigidly, turning his insides to stone and his face
to a mask as they spoke their condolences from a few yards away.

Adolphe Veicht approached. Norvald edged up to the German
minister’s side.

“I would ask what Scripture you wish read over
Frau
Thoresen’s
grave,” Adolphe asked. He made no gesture of sympathy and offered no
condolences. Norvald repeated his words in Swedish.

“
Nei
, but I thank you,” Jan replied, staring over
Adolphe’s shoulder at Norvald. “I would have no unfamiliar words spoken over
Elli this day. My
sønn
and I will read the
Skriften
in our own language
and pray over her in words she would understand.”

Behind Adolphe’s shoulder, Norvald nodded, but Adolphe’s
expression tightened. “As you wish,
Herr
Thoresen.”