A Heart for Home (14 page)

11

“Mother, there is no reason for you to get up so early to have breakfast with me.” Daniel Jeffers met his mother coming out of her room at the boardinghouse.

“But I have always made your breakfast, and at least I can pretend, can’t I?”

Daniel shook his head and held out his bent arm to escort her to the dining room. “After breakfast, what do you have planned for today?”

“I have been invited to a tea being held in my honor. Mrs. Wiste says this is the best way for me to meet some of the women of the town. During the winter they meet monthly for quilting but take a hiatus in the summer, thus the tea.”

Daniel tucked a smile behind his mustache. Now she sounded more like the woman he’d known all his life, rather than the ghost who’d inhabited that body since his father disappeared. “I’m glad to hear that. Where is the tea to be held?”

“At Mrs. Wiste’s house. Two o’clock this afternoon. She said someone would come to walk me over there. Isn’t that dear of her?”

“Yes, it is. It is indeed.” He patted his mother’s hand on his arm. “I know that Mrs. Knutson is interested in starting a lending library here in town. I thought that might be of interest to you too. You will surely meet her there today.”
And getting you out of this boardinghouse
is the best thing imaginable.

“How many years did I serve on the library board at home, I wonder?”

“Sometimes I thought you lived there or at the church. I hope Mrs. Bjorklund is feeling well enough to attend.”

“What happened?”

“She collapsed after a run across a field to save her little granddaughter, who was choking. Mrs. Bjorklund was the first this town had in the way of medical help. Someone told me she is a naturalborn healer, but I’ve also heard that she gives God all the glory for helping His people.”

“There is only one church in this town, isn’t there?”

“One very dynamic church.” He pulled out her chair at the table. Glancing around the room, he realized it must be later than he thought. He knew Joshua Landsverk would already be on the job, and if the man’s brother was anywhere near the kind of worker Joshua was, they had a real team with the Landsverk men. How he wished his father were there to see the enthusiasm the people of Blessing had for the product he had dreamed up. Knowing the inventiveness his father had possessed, he was sure there were other things he’d created but had just not quite perfected. He’d have to bring out all the drawings and diagrams and papers of half-done ideas the next time he went home.

“Miss Christopherson asked what you wanted for breakfast.”

“Oh, sorry. Sometimes my mind just runs away from me or with me, as the case may be.”

“His father, God rest his soul, used to do that all the time. Why, he’d be talking, then go silent, then jump up and run to his workshop before he lost the idea.”

Daniel smiled up at the young woman. “Whatever Mrs. Sam has made for breakfast is fine with me.”

“I saved you some ham steak.”

“You are such a jewel, Miss Christopherson. Two eggs over easy and toast, then?”

“Would you rather have biscuits?”

“Fine. I know Mother raves about the biscuits here.”

“One day, when I have a house again, I’d like that biscuit recipe,” his mother said. “They would float off the plate if one didn’t grab them quickly.”

“I’ll tell Mrs. Sam. We have fresh raspberries – with cream and sugar?”

“Oh yes, please. At home I would have been out early picking ours. Surely we can bring some starts here.” She glanced at her son, who nodded. “Do you think Mrs. Sam would be offended if I went out in the garden and picked some of the berries?”

“Not at all. I’ll be right back.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair. How happy his father would be to see his wife coming back to life. He swallowed hard. What would people think to see a man crying in the dining room over raspberries? Some days he missed his father so much it was like a brick of lead sitting on his heart. This seemed to be one of those days.

His mother took her napkin from the ring and laid the white square in her lap. “So what are your plans for the day?”

The same thing she’d asked his father every morning. Daniel leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table, then removed them at the slight frown that drew her eyebrows together. “I’ll be in the office all day today. We definitely need more office space, but that will have to wait until we have more carpenters. Which may be soon. I don’t think I told you that Mr. Gould from New York has located some immigrant builders for us to use on the project. They are on the train heading here as we speak.”

“Where will they live?”

“Here at the boardinghouse until we figure something else out. We could set up tents for them to use until the fall, if need be. Our biggest concern is the language barrier. I do hope some of them have learned at least rudimentary English.”

“I used to teach English to immigrants. Do you remember?”

Daniel stared at his mother and then smiled at Miss Christopherson as she set their raspberries before them. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll bring the rest of your meal when it is ready.” The woman smiled and turned back toward the kitchen.

He returned to his mother. “I was much younger then. But now that you mention it, you taught a group at the church. Do you remember what you used for supplies?”

“A blackboard, paper and pencils, or slates if need be, and
McGuffey’s First Reader
.” Her answer came so quickly that he wondered if she’d been pondering what she would do there as well.

“What languages did the people speak?”

“Makes no difference. I spoke and wrote English, and they learned. Quickly too, I might add.” She folded her hands and bowed her head. “Would you like to say the grace this morning?”

Daniel did and dug into the brilliant red berries floating in rich cream. “Oh my, I had forgotten how good fresh raspberries taste.”

As they finished their breakfast, he asked, “Do you mind if I suggest to Thorliff that you would be willing to teach an English class to the new workers? Maybe two or three nights a week?”

“Not at all. Perhaps I can borrow supplies from the school here.”

She sipped her coffee. “Now you just go on to work and leave me here to drink my coffee. I know the way back to my room.” Her eyes twinkled, another thing he’d been missing.

“Thank you, Mother.” He wiped his mouth and tucked his napkin back into the ring. Rising, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and, waving at Miss Christopherson, headed for the office.

The rasp of saws and the ring of hammers announced that the carpenters were hard at work on both projects. The grinding stones of the flour mill were strangely silent, as they were being cleaned and readied for the upcoming wheat harvest. The local harvest would start in two to three weeks he had heard, barring unforeseen catastrophes. A grasshopper invasion had taken out wheat fields, gardens, and anything growing farther south last year, thus cutting back on flour production. At least his father’s invention was one more asset for the farmers to help them improve the grain production. It seemed that with so many possible strikes against them, a good year was almost more of a miracle than something to take for granted.

Thorliff was setting type when Daniel arrived.

“Do you never sleep, man?”

“I just came in early,” Thorliff said. “I sure wish Astrid were here. She could set type faster than anyone I ever saw.”

“I’d say setting type might be a bit beneath her skills now that she’s a doctor.”

“Of course, but if I said I needed help, she would be here if she could.”

“I take it she takes after her mother?”

“Come to think of it, I’ll bet Mor would be good at this job too.”

“Maybe you should ask Inga, or does she not know all her letters yet?”

“Give her a couple of days and she probably would.” Both men chuckled at the thought of the little girl standing on a stool to set the type in the tray.

“Her arms probably aren’t long enough.” Thorliff studied the layout before him. “She’d have to grow some first. I hear there is a big to-do today.”

“Mother is so excited. It’s the first time I’ve seen her this interested in anything since Father disappeared. I knew coming here would be good for her. I know for certain it has been for me.”

Thorliff paused and smiled at his friend. “For all of us.”

By the time Daniel had finished telling Thorliff about the teaching job for his mother, both men were talking so fast it was amazing either understood anything the other said.

“I ordered one of those typewriter machines the other day,” Daniel told him. “You know, the one we saw advertised in the Grand Forks paper. Wish we could find someone here who wanted to learn to use it besides me. They say women learn to use it even faster than men. Fast as your fingers go setting type, you would be a natural. Anyone who plays the piano is good too.”

“What about Gould?”

“Maybe he’s already learned to use one. Lots of eastern companies have been using them for some time.”

“Maybe I should expand the help-wanted ad to include this qualification.” Thorliff raised one eyebrow.

“Did you send it out yet?”

Thorliff nodded. “To the
Minneapolis Star
, the
Grand Forks
Herald
, and the
Chicago Tribune
.”

“What about Bismarck and Fargo?”

“I’ll add those to the list. I need to send it to Duluth too. Uff da!”

“What happened?”

“I messed up this line.”

“I’ll leave you alone.” Daniel went into his office, which was not much larger than the desk and the file cabinet in the corner. Where would he set up the new machine when it arrived? More space was going from a good idea to a critical one. Thorliff’s mention of his sister brought her to Daniel’s mind. He wished he’d had a chance to talk with her more, but they were rarely in Blessing at the same time. He’d sure heard a lot about her, however. It was amazing how much she had accomplished already for someone so young. It almost seemed miraculous. What a mind she must have. Besides the fact that she was a lovely young woman.

He pushed thoughts of the younger Dr. Bjorklund out of his mind and sat down to begin writing letters, which seemed to be his primary job lately. Setting up appointments for his next sales trip took an inordinate amount of time. By dinnertime he had a stack of mail ready to take to the post office, so he stopped there on his way back to the boardinghouse to eat.

“Why hello, Mr. Jeffers.” Mrs. Valders leaned forward. “We are so delighted to be honoring your mother today. Thank you for bringing her here to us. And, of course, for bringing your business here. I’ve been putting your mail in the newspaper box, but any time you would like to take out a separate one, you just let me know.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Valders.” He handed her the packet rather than sliding the letters through the slot. “I’ll let you know.” He turned to leave and nearly bumped into a young woman he’d not met before. “Pardon me.”

“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” She stepped to the side, as did he, both at the same side. First to one side and then the other. He stopped and smiled. “If there were music, we could dance.” He lifted his brown felt hat. “I am Daniel Jeffers, and I know this is not a proper introduction, but – ”

“I am Deborah MacCallister.”

“Haven’t I heard your voice before?”

She smiled. “You might have. I have a part-time shift on the telephone exchange board. I am glad to meet you.”

“And I you. Have a pleasant day.” He touched the brim of his hat and continued on out the door. She was probably married, like all the other young women in Blessing. He shoved his hands into his pockets and whistled his way toward the boardinghouse. Other than the lack of marriageable young women, Blessing was still the town of his dreams. And his dreams were growing bigger by the day. At least they would be if enough trained men could be found to build his father’s machinery.

12

“Are you sure you feel up to attending the tea?” Freda asked, standing arms akimbo, a frown adding wrinkles to her forehead.

“Of course. What do I have to do but sit there and be polite?” Ingeborg smiled gently. “I have told you and told you that I am fine. In fact, I feel better than I have in a long while.” She took a basket off the kitchen counter. “The peace of God is mighty restorative, you know. Now, you go change so you will be ready too.”

“I am not going.”

“Freda, why is it you refuse to attend the few social events we have in Blessing?”

“I guess I am just not a sociable person. I’d rather hoe the garden or wash the cheese molds than sit there and make polite talk. Besides, I never know what to say. Please don’t make me go.”

Ingeborg shook her head at the piteous tone. “I won’t make you go. Short of wrestling you to the ground and tying you up to drag you . . .” She blew out a disgusted breath. “But you can’t work all the time.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Ingeborg heard the grumble, although she had the feeling she was not supposed to. Freda had gotten up before dawn in order to be at Ellie’s to start the bread and pies for the haying crew – the final day, according to Andrew. They would have only a couple of weeks before harvest started. With everything late this year, the beans would be ready to can about the same time they were cooking for the threshing crew. While the threshing crew was working the wheat fields around Blessing, the women all brought food to the kitchen wherever the big steam engine was set up to separate the wheat kernels from the straw. Farmers from the smaller farms hauled their sheaves of wheat to the steam engine and threshing machine and hauled home the straw, which was blown into that same wagon. The burlap sacks of wheat went directly to the flour mill and the storage granaries. None of the local farmers sent their wheat to the Twin Cities flour mills any longer, and so were not forced to pay the outrageous shipping costs. The farmers in the Dickinson area, in the southwestern part of the state, had done the same thing. Their flour mill was even older than the one at Blessing.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to take anything.” Freda nodded toward the basket.