Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (29 page)

“It’s truly
beautiful—thank you all, very much!” Her pause was only the briefest. “Now I
have a gift for all of you.”

Jan was surprised, but
the children clapped their enthusiasm. Their neighbor reached under her bed and
pulled out a small box. She set it on the table and invited them to look.

Kjell lifted the lid. “Oh!”

The other boys and Uli
crowded up to see. The box was lined with shells, starfish, coral, and sea
horses—things the children had never seen.

“What are they?” Uli
breathed.

“Let’s take them out and
see,”
Fru Brünlee
suggested. Carefully they removed the items and laid them
where they could be seen. They listened attentively as she described each
piece, where it came from, and what it was like in the ocean before it died or
washed up on a beach.

“However did you collect
them all, Mrs. Brownlee?” Karl asked. He was holding a large red starfish.

She cleared her throat
and answered calmly. “My son collected them over the last four years. It was a
hobby of his, but I knew you had never seen anything like them so I asked my
mother to send them to me for you. Do you like them?”

“Yes’m!”

Jan had listened
intently to the conversation.
So, Lord, now I know a little more, eh?
She
has a mother and I think she has lost a son.

When he watched her
struggle and master her emotions, a kindred compassion surged in his breast.
Ah,
I know. I know your pain, Fru Brünlee. I know.

As the Thoresens took
their leave, their neighbor gave each of the children a candy cane and a hug.
She hugged Sigrün and Amalie and shook Søren’s hand. Last of all she shook
Jan’s hand.

“Merry Christmas, Mr.
Thoresen.”

“
Ja
, and a ver
Merry Christmas for you,” Jan answered. Then he whispered. “And I denk you.”

She did not understand.

“Denk you for special
gift to children,” he repeated. “Ver special.” He pressed her hand and bowed.
And then she did understand.

She ducked her head to
hide the sudden moisture, but he saw it, just for an instant, gleaming on her
lashes.

~~**~~

Winter days were short and nights were long. In the
evenings, Jan and Mr.
Letoire now had time
to work on Jan’s English. Jan made an attempt to include Amalie in the
beginning, but she had no real interest. Before long it was only Jan and the
schoolmaster bending over books at the kitchen table.

English was not Jan’s
only preoccupation in the dark evenings.

Ach! What will Amalie think if I wear a hole in this carpet?
Jan thought and grimaced. From the window in their living room he could see all
of Mrs. Brownlee’s house and yard. From there he could see her coming from and
going to the house to her chores. And he’d found himself drawn to this window . . .
regularly.

Like every morning. And every evening.

He shook his head.
I cannot be entertaining such thoughts
,
he chided himself. He stared again at the little house across the fields and
across the creek.

Such thoughts? What thoughts? What thoughts could he possibly
be thinking?

He stared deeply into his heart and frowned. He only knew
that the vague sense of responsibility for a neighboring woman alone on the
prairie was growing . . . into something more.

He rubbed his face hard. A blizzard was coming soon. He
could feel it in his bones.

He glanced at the house again and saw the woman, wrapped
against the cold, heading for her little stable.
No doubt to feed and water
her stock. She has taken to her responsibilities better than I expected
.

Jan cocked his head and listened. The wind was shifting.
Picking up. He glanced back across the fields. She was at the pump now, filling
a bucket. She glanced up and stared into the distance.

Søren unexpectedly joined him at the window. “Do you think
she knows a blizzard is coming?” he asked. “I can see the cloud. It is southwest
of us, coming fast. Surely she will see it, too.”

Jan shook his head. “I don’t know.” He tore himself away
from the window. “Are we ready for it?”

“Yes,
Pappa
. The boys and I have taken care of the
stock. They have plenty of feed and water for now. The barn and sheds are
closed up.”

As Jan nodded his approval, a gust of wind slammed the farm
house. He wanted to go back to the window and make sure their neighbor was safe
in her house, but Søren was there, watching. Instead Jan made for the kitchen
to wash up.

The season of blizzards was upon them. As inconspicuously as
possible, Jan kept an eye out for Mrs. Brownlee from the window in the living
room. Each time a storm screamed across the prairie and fell upon them, Jan felt
an uneasy need to know that his neighbor was tucked, safe and secure, within her
home. And he was glad after each storm that he and Søren had insisted on
certain improvements to Abigael and Henrik’s house—particularly the new roof
and strong doors.

Many times as evening fell he saw the lamplight flare in her
window. Jan imagined his neighbor reading or cooking in the tiny but snug house.
The picture he drew in his mind made him smile.

The last Saturday in February another storm pummeled their
community. As the family arose Sunday morning, there was no thought of going
out in the blinding snow and wind for church. After the men and boys took care
of the milking and the stock’s needs, the family settled in for a day of quiet
indoor activity.

Jan stared through the window but could see nothing of his
neighbor’s house. The winds had scoured a high drift of snow against the barn,
and he could not even make out the shapes of their sheds through the swirling
snow.

Jan frowned.
Lord, please help our neighbor, eh? She will
be sorry to miss church today.

The weather began to abate early Tuesday morning, but as
soon as the Thoresens finished the milking, the bruising roar of another storm was
upon them. The pounding of wind-blasted snow lasted until Friday afternoon.

By then Jan was surly and anxious for
Fru Brünlee
. Uli,
unknowingly, offered a way to allay his worries.

“
Onkel
, look at the sunshine on the snow!” she
shouted. “Can we go for a sleigh ride? Please?”

Jan opened his mouth to snap a crotchety “no” and caught
himself. An audacious idea—
a perfect idea!
—had entered his mind.

“Bundle up, little one,
ja
? It may be bright, but it
is very cold!” He pulled on a heavy wool sweater and buttoned his long coat
over it. He twined a scarf around his neck and covered his head with a thick wool
cap.

Then he had Little Karl help him carry the sleigh out of the
barn and hitch it to the bays. He surreptitiously glanced across the fields but
saw no activity at his neighbor’s house other than a wisp of smoke curling from
the stovepipe.

A few minutes later he and Uli were flying down the frosty track
toward the bridge. The sleigh’s bells rang brightly in the icy air. He pulled
up in front of Mrs. Brownlee’s house and was a bit disappointed when she did
not step out to welcome them. Wouldn’t she have been alerted by the happy, jingling
sound of sleigh bells?

“Let us knock on her door, Uli, shall we?” Uli bounded up
the steps and he followed behind her. She was already knocking on the door when
Jan joined her.

They waited. After a few moments their neighbor answered the
door and Uli bounded inside, announcing joyously,
“Mrs. Brownlee!
Onkel
is taking me for a ride; do you want to
come?”

Their neighbor said
nothing, only nodded her response. Jan followed Uli inside and closed the door while
their neighbor, wordlessly, went for her cloak, bonnet, and gloves.

Jan cocked his head.
Something
was not right with
Fru Brünlee
.

He studied her and saw dull, puffy eyes and a forced smile. Were
those tears drying on her cheeks?

Their neighbor, as if she were swimming in thick fog, slowly
dragged on her hat and gloves.
Uli frowned
and looked up at her
onkel
, concern on her young face.

Jan stepped forward to
assist as
Fru Brünlee
fumbled with her cloak. Unconsciously she sniffed
and rubbed her cheek with a gloved hand.

Jan looked from Uli to
Fru
Brünlee
. Without warning he grabbed Uli and “whiskered” her cheek, sending
her into a fit of laughter. The sound of Uli’s cheerful laughter seemed to wake
their neighbor from her stupor.

“Sun is ver shining
today, Mrs. Brünlee,” Jan said in a light tone. “Ver gud day drive,
ja
?”

He hustled Uli and
Fru
Brünlee
outside and into the sleigh, wheeled the team around, and raced up
the hill. From there they flew across the snow-crusted upper fields of her
property.

Uli screamed in delight and
Jan did not discourage her, noticing that his neighbor was waking and taking
note of the scenery flying by. Jan drove for miles, letting Uli’s chatter and
the fresh air do their work.

His little niece sang “Jingle
Bells”—many times—and
Fru Brünlee
joined in. Jan was relieved to see her
smile and sniff the snowy air. Later when Uli fell asleep between them, Jan and
his neighbor rode, at a more sedate pace, in companionable silence.

“Vinter most gone, now.”
Jan wanted her to know that the worst was over. “March haf many nice days; some
storm too, but most getting nicer.”

Fru Brünlee
sighed. “I guess I don’t care much for winter out
here, but I can’t say I wasn’t warned.”

Jan didn’t care for the edge
of defeat he heard in her response. He shrugged. “Vinter ver hard,
all
.
Must busy. Must outside some and also vit’ people.”

“I know. I just haven’t
been able to see anyone recently. I guess I let it get me down.”

“Not eat gud, also?”

“Hm? Oh. Food hasn’t
tasted good to me lately.”

He knew he was risking a
cold rebuff, but still he gently suggested, “Mrs. Brünlee, body belong God;
must take care for him,
ja
? Take care mind, too.”

“Your English is
improving, Mr. Thoresen. Have you been working on it?”

Jan chuckled in silence.
How deftly she turned the subject! Now this was his neighbor!

Glancing sideways at her
Jan answered carefully, “
Ja
, am learn some.”

The sun was low on the
horizon when Jan and Uli returned
Fru Brünlee
to her home. The dog she
had named “Baron” ran between them and jumped up on her skirts, refusing to be
ignored.

Jan snorted. She had
developed an affection for the ugly mongrel but had certainly not trained him
well.

Over Baron’s yips, she
thanked him for the ride.

“I take Uli Monday,” Jan
mentioned quietly, staring out over the snow-laden fields. “You like come too?”

“Yes, I would. I would
greatly enjoy it.”

It was during the long
winter and over the course of several sleigh rides that Jan began to pray . . .
not just
for
his neighbor, but about her.

~~**~~

Jan had given in completely. He
enjoyed
watching his
neighbor—surreptitiously, of course—and was always glad when Amalie announced
Fru
Brünlee
would be coming for Sunday dinner.

Perhaps even today
, Jan hoped with an inward grin.
It
has been a few weeks, after all!

He saw Mary Bailey approach Rose and growled his frustration.
Amalie hadn’t been quick enough! Someone else was tendering an invite.

But no, Mrs. Bailey was handing
Fru Brünlee
a
telegram.

Telegrams were always bad news.

Skirting the knots of people visiting in the churchyard, Jan
found an unobstructed view as she tore open the paper. Her expression told him
what he’d feared. Something bad had happened.

“Søren!” Jan called. His
sønn
waved to him. Jan
gestured him over and glanced back toward
Fru Brünlee
. It could not be
good—her face had crumpled.

He grabbed Søren by the arm and dragged him to their
neighbor. “Ask what we can do,” Jan directed.

Søren and
Fru Brünlee
spoke for just a moment before she
turned away, covering her eyes with her hand. Søren whispered to his father, “
Pappa
,
she has heard bad news. Her mother has died.”

Jan thought for a moment. “Will she go? Ask her, please.”

Søren approached their neighbor again and gently asked the
question. He looked toward Jan and nodded. Jan drew near and instructed Søren,
“Tell her we will take care of her home and animals and take her to the train.
Ask her when she will leave.”

“Tomorrow,
Pappa
.”

Jan nodded. “Tell her we will come and take her in the
morning.”

The train, in a hail of cinders, steamed away from the
RiverBend siding. Jan stared after it.
She has gone. Gone to mourn her
mother. Gone back to her family.

All he could think or imagine was how easy it would be for
her to never return to her little house across the fields and creek from him. That
single thought dug an ache in his chest he did not know how to address.

Nearly three weeks later, Jan, Amalie, and Uli were waiting
and watching for the arrival of the train. Vera Medford had assured Jan that
Rose was, indeed, returning. The train slowed and, with a release of steam,
stopped.

Then Uli let out a whoop and raced down the siding.
“Mrs. Brownlee! Mrs. Brownlee!”

Their neighbor scooped
Uli up and smothered her round cheeks with kisses; Uli squeezed
Fru
Brünlee’s
neck and matched her kiss for kiss. Jan stood stock still,
mesmerized, until Amalie dragged him along. She, too, wrapped her arms around their
neighbor, talking all the while.

Jan stood back, calm enough,
although he wondered, for the briefest moment, how it might feel
to wrap his
arms around
—

Finally when he had an
opportunity to greet her, he took her hand and said, “Velcome home,” something
he’d practiced often in the last twenty-four hours.

Jan could not keep up
with the chatter flowing among Amalie, Uli, and
Fru Brünlee
, so he
focused only on
Fru Brünlee’s
replies.

“And Baron? How is
Baron?” she questioned.

Jan snorted and he told
Uli, “Tell
Fru Brünlee
that her dog is fine—even if we did give up
trying to keep him at our house.”

Uli added, “He chewed
through the ropes and went back home, so we just let him stay there. He’s
waiting for you right now.”

Fru Brünlee
smiled, and Jan clucked his tongue in mock
disapproval.

“Dog ver gud now, eh?”
he commented wryly. She just smiled larger.

She has come back!
She does not intend to leave but to stay!

Those words rang within
him and, like a bellows fans an ember to life, her return blew fresh hope into
his heart. A question burned in there, demanding an answer.

I must know the
answer!
his heart insisted.

So, Lord,
he prayed,
I wish to test the water with Fru
Brünlee. Will you help me?

He practiced what he
would do, what he would say, rehearsing the shape and sound of strange English words
until he could not sleep without them intruding on his dreams.

He dressed himself with
care and polished the leather of the buggy to a high shine, all as
inconspicuously as possible. He did not want to draw Søren’s or the boys’
attention to what he was doing, and he
did not
want to field any
questions!

Without a word he drove away
from his farm.

“Mr. Thoresen, hello!”

Fru Brünlee
seemed glad to see him.

Ja, god-dag
,” he greeted her. “You please to take ride?” He
indicated his buggy in the yard.

“Yes, yes!”
Fru
Brünlee
rushed away to gather her coat and mittens, and Jan took a deep
breath, the first hurdle overcome. He fingered the dear object in his coat
pocket.

They drove through the
spring snow, a cool breeze whipping their cheeks. His neighbor sighed and closed
her eyes in bliss.

“Day to ride—not to
house,
ja
?” Jan offered, using his best conversation starter.

She nodded and smiled.
“I’m glad you came.”

She is glad I came!

Across the snow-clad
plain on little-used roads and tracks the bays charged. After a while Jan
spoke, loud enough to be heard over the swish of the wheels and the wind
whistling by, “Ve go, look river. Ver big now. Ver
grand
.”

He pulled up on the team
as they approached the brow of the overlook. He laid the buggy alongside the
edge. Below, running from north to south, was the same creek that divided their
properties.

It was wider and deeper
here where it emptied into the river. Snow covered the banks of the creek and
hung over the sides of the small torrent. Jan relished the view. From here they
could see the creek pouring into the river—and beyond that the prairie
stretched far into the distance, more beautiful than any winter portrait.

All was silent save for
the shifting of the team . . . so he pulled the object from his
pocket. In the palm of his hand he held the only image of Elli he owned, a tiny
tintype set inside a hinged, leather-bound case. He snapped it open and looked
at her face.

What would his neighbor
see? Jan peered again at Elli’s likeness, so familiar to him.

“
Fru Brünlee
,
please to look at picture? Is mine vife. Name vas Elli. Vas gud, best, and kind
woman.”

Jan was not encouraged.
His neighbor was staring at the river and had grown still. She seemed distant
and disturbed. Then she stirred.

“Who . . .?”
She looked up, inquiring, and Jan realized she had not heard what he’d said.

“Mine vife, Elli.” He repeated
patiently. With dogged determination he continued. “Fever, ver bad come. Our
datter
Kristen, mine brot’er Karl, and mine Elli die. Go to God. Many years now.”

His neighbor took the
picture into her hand and studied it. He saw tears spring to her eyes.

“I haf much luf for
Elli. Ver hard life vit no Elli,” Jan added slowly.

Oh, Lord, help me,
Jan prayed. He had practiced these words so many
times, and yet they were flying straight out of his head!

He swallowed. “You luf,
too. Your man?” Softly he added, “He die, too,
ja
?”

She shivered and her
voice shook. As though he had ripped a scab from a mortal wound, her answer
bled pain rather than blood. “Yes, he died. And my children, my sweet little
ones.”

She gestured at the
water. “Our carriage slid into a frozen river like this one. They all died.
They all drowned.
Except for me
.”

And then she was weeping
uncontrollably and Jan knew. He knew she was in much more pain than he had
realized. She was not ready to hear such words from him.

He slapped the reins once
and the buggy pulled away from the high bank. Making a wide circle, he turned
in the direction of her home.

As he drove he prayed
for her.
Ah, Lord. A husband! And her little ones! To lose one’s children in
icy water? No one can prepare for such a horror. What a brave soul this woman
has. Please help her! Please give me words of comfort!

As they flew over the
crusty roads her weeping subsided. Soon Jan could feel that she was calmer. She
was, he thought, about to speak, so Jan pulled on the reins and brought the
team to a gradual stop. He turned and faced her in the seat.

She was embarrassed. “Mr.
Thoresen, I’m very sorry for my behavior . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

Jan shook his head. “
Nei.
I
sorry! Not know for (he searched for the word) river?”

How could I have
chosen a worse place to take you?
his heart groaned.

She acknowledged this
and he tentatively continued. “Mrs.
Brünlee
, vas Mr.
Brünlee
Christian?”

She nodded.

Jan was remembering
staring into Elli’s face after she passed. He could still recall,
vividly
,
the peace that washed over him when he realized . . . her body
no longer held her spirit.

How could he convey this
great truth to her? He opened himself to her, speaking from deep within his
soul. “Mrs.
Brünlee
, ven trust Jesus, not gone alvays, now only. I tell
you trut’, little woman, God
never
gone, alvays vit you. As Christian
brot’er I promise you, God vill help.”

The gratitude he saw in
her eyes nearly undid him, and yet he required himself to face reality . . .
Ja, I have my answer, eh, Lord? She is not ready.
He called to the
horses and neither spoke again until they reached her home.

Still silent, he helped
her down and walked her to the front door. Of course
Fru Brünlee’s
dog—
the
one I insisted she have,
he sneered—jumped up in happy greeting, nearly
overturning her, while alternately growling and baring his teeth to Jan.

Jan had had enough. “Down!”
Thunder and frustration rolled in his voice. The dog dropped to the floor of
the porch.

“Gud dog,” Jan managed
to say. He took a deep breath. “And denk you, Mrs. Brünlee. Ride vas ver nice.”
He opened the door, holding it for her and closing it after she passed through.

He did not return home
right away. Instead he drove out onto the prairie, following a faint track. As
he drove he worked to quell any hope he’d had.
Ja, I am just an old farmer.
I must not wish for what cannot be mine. I must no longer think on these
things. Ja, just so.

These were the stern
commands he issued to his heart and his head. These were the words he repeated to
himself in the weeks following.

A tentative spring arrived. In typical prairie fashion, the
weather could not be trusted: One day promised glorious sunshine and warming
temperatures; the next day dashed those promises with freezing rain and late
snows.

The second school term ended and so did
Mr. Letoire’s stay with the Thoresens. He
departed the community for a visit back East until the next term began in late
fall.

Harold Kalbørg had courted Sigrün through the winter, and Jan
had watched as Sigrün’s demeanor toward Harold grew from shy and blushing, to
confident and hopeful, and finally to love-struck. Still, Jan needed to know
how Harold would deal with Sigrün’s inability to speak. Would he truly love her
regardless?

As Jan observed them together, Harold behaved as though no
impediment to their conversation existed: While he talked, the young man watched
Sigrün’s face and responded to a simple nod, smile, or shake of the head.

When the day arrived and Harold asked to speak privately with
him, Jan had not been surprised. He had already discussed Harold’s suit with
Amalie.

“
Søster
,” he said gently, “This man is in love with
your
datter
, and she is in love with him,
nei
? But you have the
final say. If he is not the best for her and you say no, then when he asks, I
will say no.”

But Amalie could not refuse Harold’s suit. Harold was a fine
man and it would be a good match. Even more, it was what Sigrün wanted. So when
Harold had asked Jan for Sigrün’s hand, Jan, grudgingly, had given his blessing.

Jan sighed. He could not believe Sigrün was marrying, that
she would be leaving their home, never to live with them again. He knew Amalie
was struggling with the same emotions. Amid all the happy preparations for the
wedding, they occasionally caught sight of each other and recognized the grief
the other was feeling.

My Kristen was two years older than Sigrün
, Jan pondered
with sad wonder.
Likely we would have already celebrated her marriage to some
nice young man.

Now that Sigrün and Harold were promised to each other, Jan
would do all he could to give Sigrün the wedding she wanted—the wedding he knew
Karl would have given her.