A Touch of Grace (37 page)

“Come on!” She threw open the barn door to see the two cows waiting outside the barred back doorway. “They already know when milking time is. I was just about to come out.”

“A Holstein and a Guernsey? Where did you get them?” Andrew asked.

“At the train.”

Haakan stared at his wife. “At the train? In Blessing?”

“Ja. Mr. Gould sent them. A thank-you gift.”

“This isn’t just a gift. This is life again. We’ll have milk and cream again. Hallelujah!”

“I’ve sent milk around to those with children. All of Blessing is blessing Mr. Gould. We churned butter today, twice. Both of the cows are bred, but Mr. Gould knew we’d need a bull, so he sent Buster too. When he gets a bit older.”

“And to think I was wondering what we were going to feed those hogs.”

“Let me go on home and see Ellie and Carl, then I’ll come back and milk.” Andrew gave his mother an arm-around-the-shoulders hug. “That’s some surprise.”

“You stay with your family. I can milk.”

“Your mother and I can milk.”

“Are we having a fight over who gets to milk the cows?” Andrew said with a laugh, heading for the wagon. “I’ll put the pigs in my barn. See you tomorrow.”

“You let our ladies in and I’ll go get the buckets.”

Haakan gave her a pat on the back of her skirt and headed to unbar the door, talking to the two cows, introducing himself.

“The Guernsey is Belle. She’s the one wearing the bell.” Ingeborg paused at the door. “Kind of a giveaway.”

“Okay.”

Okay? Haakan had picked up a new word. She knew what it meant and had heard it used before, but not by her husband.
They’re
home! They’re home! Thank you, Lord, thank you
. She half danced her way to the well house. They had cows and hogs and, most important, each other.
Thank you, God. They are home!

They caught up some on the news while they milked, the song of the milk in the bucket so welcome, as was the sound of cows munching their grain—all the normal sounds that had been missing.

Ingeborg listened to Haakan tell her about some of the farmers they had threshed for, many of them reeling from the loss of their livestock too. They’d traveled a long way west before there were cattle in the fields and hogs to be bought.

“The Missouri River seems to be the line of demarcation. I talked to one man about buying one of his milk cows, but he was holding out for more than I was willing to pay.”

“Have you thought of going back east to buy stock?”

“You sound like you have an idea.”

“Might be a way to regain some of our loss. If you brought back several railroad cars filled with livestock, you could maybe get a better buy. Then you could have an auction here in Blessing. Advertise it all over. What do you think?”

“I think I have a very smart wife.”

“We could sell to our neighbors at cost. We don’t need to make money on them.”

“I’ll talk with Lars in the morning. I’m sure Thorliff would take care of the advertising.” He stood up, removing the bucket of milk and the stool in the same easy motion he always used, but the next thing Ingeborg knew, he was leaning against the barn wall.

“Haakan, what is it?”

“Just stood up too fast. Be fine in a moment.”

“When did that start?”

“Some time ago. Long as I move a bit slow, I’m okay.” He proved it by hanging the stool on the peg on the wall. “Just getting old, I guess.”

Getting old, my foot. That has to be his heart. I’m digging some fox-glove
tonight. Soon as it dries, I can pound it to powder
. Her mind was off and running on how much of the powder to give him and wondering if the leaves steeped for tea might not help too.
How do I get
him to see Elizabeth?

When she’d stripped the last drop from Belle, she handed her bucket to Haakan and moved to the cow’s neck to pet her. “You are beautiful. You know that? I thank God every day for you.” The Holstein next to her turned and looked at Ingeborg, as if to say, “My turn too, you know.” So Ingeborg stroked both their necks and inhaled the sweet fragrance of healthy cow. So many of their other cows had been raised from calves right on their own place and had become almost members of the family. But these two were a gift, a constant reminder of friendship and God’s grace.

She flipped open the stanchions and watched as they both backed up, turned, and made their way to the back door and down the ramp. So many things to be thankful for.

After pouring the milk through the strainer, they set the cans in the cold water, washed out the buckets and tipped them upside down on the shelf to drain, and then shut the door behind them, making their way to the house arm in arm.

“Where’s the cookshack?”

“Mrs. Geddick wanted to take it home and clean it up. That woman is such a worker and good cook. Even without butter, milk, or cream, she fed us right well. Ate more rabbit than usual, bought chickens and eggs when we could. Lars shot some grouse out of a tree one night, and we had a feast the next day. Reminded me of our early days here, before we had all that we have now. Ate a lot of beans and rice too.”

Ingeborg rattled the stove’s grate and added sticks of pitch wood to the coals. “I’d have had supper ready had I known you were near. How does scrambled eggs and toast sound?”

“Anything sounds good. Where’s Astrid?”

“At Elizabeth’s. Garth Wiste’s nephew Nathan fell out of a tree and broke his leg. Astrid’s sitting with him tonight. Poor little guy, pretty painful. When I left, she was reading to him.”

“That part of her nurse’s training?”

“Most likely.” She broke eggs into a bowl, beat them to a froth, and added cream and salt and pepper. “I take it those hogs are for breeding?”

“The little boar is from a different farmer, so we can use him when the time comes. I wanted to buy more to raise for butchering but—”

“You could bring home a train car of feeder hogs too. Or butchering size.”

“We’ll be able to buy hanging halves of pork and beef most likely.”

She set the rack over the open back lid and sliced bread for toast. “I tell you, when that first cream soured, Astrid, Ellie, Kaaren, and I made pigs of ourselves spreading that cream on bread and adding chokecherry syrup. Food fit for a queen.”

“If we can’t buy much meat and there’s no hunting, it might be kinda slim around here this winter.”

“Remember how Metiz taught us to dry fish? We can do that again.”

“I thought of going up into Canada to see if we can bag a moose or two there. Maybe it was too cold up there for the disease to go that far.”

She set his plate in front of him and hers across the table. When she sat down, he reached his hands across the table, and she laid hers in his. “I Jesu navn …” When they said the amen she squeezed his hands. “Mighty few times it’s been just you and me like this.”

He nodded and spread jam on a piece of toast. “Any chance we could heat up some water so I can have a bath?”

“I think that can be arranged—if you can stay awake long enough?”

“It doesn’t have to be too hot.”

He brought in two buckets of water and poured them into the boiler she had set on the stove.

“You want more coffee?”

“With cream?”

“You never drink it with cream.”

“I know, but when you go without something for a long time, it becomes more precious.”

She looked up to see him studying her, love shining in his Bjorklund blue eyes. Her heart did a twirl, and she reached up to pat his cheek, and then leaned into his side. How good to have a man who knew how to love and wasn’t afraid to show it. He must let them find out what was wrong. She couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving her soon.
Please, Lord, heal him
.

New York

Dear Mor and Far,

Thank you for your letter. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me, even though I knew you were busy with the new school year starting. Are you sure you don’t need me more at home than here? As always, I like working with the younger children the most, although the adult program here is very interesting also. There is a man in the class, Jeremy Penderwick, who has already professed his undying love for me. I, of course, call him Mr. Penderwick, and had to show him the signs for him to declare his love, which might have reduced some of his ardor. He is forty if a day, so you needn’t fear my reciprocating his love. I won’t tell him that he seems more an uncle in my mind than a suitor.

Grace smiled to herself as she wrote about Mr. Penderwick. Round was the word she most often used to describe him. He even bounced instead of walking sedately. While he had learned to read lips, signing was giving him a way of communicating other than writing notes. She returned to her letter.

How are the twins? You must tell me about them, for Sophie has forgotten how to write letters. I know she is busy with her family and the boardinghouse but …

Forgive me. I wasn’t going to complain.

You’d think by now that I’d know Sophie well enough not to expect
things like letters
. But in spite of telling herself that, hurt crept in, seeping around her defenses like smoke, nearly invisible until you smelled it. Was Sophie still holding a grudge even though she’d said she understood? For all the times Grace had forgiven her, it seemed that Sophie could at least try. But these thoughts were the kind that caused the outburst in the first place.
I guess I still need more work on
keeping my thoughts captive to the Lord
.

Tell the boys hello from me. I think of all of you so often and wonder how you are faring with the lack of meat. We eat a lot of soup here, mostly for the evening meal. The people on the staff are friendly, but so far I’ve not made any close friends. I feel like I’m still here on approval or something.

What I can’t say to you, dear Mor, is that I am so lonely I wake up
crying in the night
. Her gaze focused on the letter propped in front of her, the one she would answer when she finished writing home. She reread her letter, almost tearing it up since it sounded whiny to her, but instead signed her name and folded it for the envelope.

With a whispered sigh of delight, she removed the sheet of stationery with Jonathan David Gould, Esq., embossed at the top and started reading—for the third time, at least. What a release from the continuing ache when his letter had arrived. It had seemed forever for classes to end that day so she could read it.

Dear Miss Knutson,

See, I can be proper if and when I choose to, but to me you are Grace, pure Grace.

Her heart caught—again—on those two words.
Pure Grace
. In the eyes of her family she was Always Grace or Grace Always. The two words had become almost synonymous but no longer. Was that why Sophie had not written to her? Because she had erupted like a volcano when Sophie had said, “But Grace, you always …” Such a simple statement was surely not a good excuse for the way she’d acted.
Dear
Sophie, will you ever forgive me? I understand now how lonely you
must’ve been when Hamre was out on the boat and you were alone and
sick
. She returned to her letter. Rereading Jonathan’s letter was far more comforting than reliving the last fiasco in Blessing.

I am settling in to college life, although I look at things differently than before I went to Blessing. The high jinks of my fraternity brothers are more a bother than fun, making it hard sometimes to study with the noise and confusion. If I had my way, I would have a room up on the top floor with no space for a roommate, not that our present quarters are large by any means. At least Thomas had prepared me for much of this. I do enjoy the rowing. I am part of a four-man crew, but I enjoy rowing alone the most. Not that I have a lot of time to think, since I am always pushing for better times. All the work I did on the farm was the best preparation I could have found anywhere. I am far stronger than most of the other freshmen. Perhaps we should make farm work a prerequisite for college or even high school sports. Do you think your father and Mr. Bjorklund would approve?

Grace tried to picture a whole team of society sons working on the farm and started to giggle. It would be like the chaos when the sow let the piglets loose.

I am doing as I promised. My grades so far are at the head of the classes. When I get tired, I remind myself of the high stakes and keep the light on.

Just how high were the stakes, Grace wondered. She knew he had to get good grades for his father to approve his changing schools, but he still hadn’t told her where or why.

I hope you are enjoying your school and will find a good friend soon. I so look forward to seeing you again at Christmas. I want to show you New York City, all decked out in her finest.

Your devoted friend,

JDG

She read the last two lines again.
Devoted friend
. Maybe there was more to think on here.

The next morning, Miss Parke, the teacher she assisted, handed her a note from the head of the school.
Please see me in my office as
soon as you are finished with this class
.

What could I have done wrong?
was her first thought. Ever since her stay with the Goulds, she found herself questioning all her actions. At home she always knew what to do. Now she always felt under scrutiny and was exhausted. Something was wrong at home. This thought flashed like a lightning bolt across her mind. But surely if it were an emergency, the woman would have said so immediately. Comforted, she joined the work with the children.
What can it be?
popped in more than she desired.