No Distance Too Far (19 page)

“You have to keep those gears greased,” Joshua cautioned them. “And tie down that tail every time you go up there to work so you don’t get knocked off the platform if the wind suddenly comes up.”

Supper that night was more like a party as they celebrated the new rig.

“I love to hear it creaking,” the missus said, “and the sound of the wind against the blades. Has its own song, don’t it?”

“I hadn’t thought that way, ma’am, but you are right. Once you get that hand pump in the sink, you can have water any time you want.”

“You brought me your bill?” Hiram asked after supper.

Joshua handed him the totaled statement, including subtracting the deposit the man had made.

“This might be the best money I’ve ever spent,” he said as he brought a metal box out of the bedroom and counted out the cash. “There you go, and don’t you forget to stop in and talk with Hen-derson at the next farm over. He’s kinda tight, but he sure needs one of these.”

“You invite him over to see yours, and we’ll leave you an address to contact Mr. Bjorklund to see when we can fit another one in. Right now we are doing a place about three miles from here. You know the Bensons?”

“Of course. They go to our same church. I’m the first one there to get a drilled well and a windmill. But I know for certain we won’t be the last.”

As he put the ledger away later, Joshua smiled. It sure would be nice if all the new jobs were this easy. And if all the women fed them as well as Mrs. Aarsgard, they’d never have to do their own cooking. Joshua leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head, locking his hands. The last bit of anxiety over his new responsibilities dissolved before him. He liked this new job. Now if only Astrid would come home and forget about Africa.

14

ATHENS, GEORGIA

A
strid was sitting in the rear of the classroom today, hoping Rev. Thompkins would forget she was there and not ask her any questions. Her mind was whirling with all the possibilities for her future.

“As you all have prepared, you know we are studying Paul’s letter to Timothy. You’ve all read it, I’m sure.” At their nods he continued. “I thought this appropriate since so many of you are indeed young.” He stopped and glanced at Dr. Gansberg and his wife. “Some are just young at heart but with a deep knowledge of the Word of God.”

At least he did not say
you are indeed young men
, Astrid thought, still feeling disgruntled after the discussion with Rev. Arbuckle and his questions. While Paul had said that women should not pastor a church, he never mentioned being a doctor was not a good thing for those of the female persuasion.
If I ever teach, it will not be on spiritual
matters but on medical matters
, she promised herself. But she knew that many medical men would still take affront at a young woman teaching them the latest in medical procedures and studies. No matter how qualified she was.

The thoughts did not make her happy.

“Dr. Bjorklund?”

She jerked her attention back to where it belonged, in the classroom, studying Timothy. What had he asked her? “I . . . I’m sorry. I guess my mind took off on its own. Would you please repeat your question?” She could feel embarrassment flaming her cheeks and up her neck.

“I asked what stood out to you in this letter.”

Astrid made her mind return to last night’s reading and the second time through early this morning. “I think Paul gave good advice for each of us, to do our best, to remember what we learned in our youth, to not feel . . .” She paused, squinting her eyes to remember what she had thought. “To not feel intimidated because we are young, that we have gifts to use for the body of Christ, and we must not shirk using them.” She heaved a sigh of relief at his nodding.

“Very good.”

“Someone else? What did you learn from the text?”

Dr. Gansberg raised his hand. “I think the advice is good for all ages, even though it’s especially aimed at a young man. I feel I am being called to a new phase of my life, and I am very young in experience to this new calling.” He smiled at his wife. “We were talking about that this morning.”

“Anyone else?”

“I think Paul should not have told Timothy to drink a glass of red wine every day to aid his stomach.” The young man shook his head. “Spirits never solved anything.”

Astrid felt her eyes roll. Should she take him on or let him be? He always found something negative to say.

Rev. Thompkins looked to Dr. Gansberg. “Would you like to comment on that from a medical point of view, Dr. Gansberg?”

“How about history first?”

“That would be fine.”

“First of all, you have to remember that wine was very important in those days. Much of the water was contaminated by animal and human waste leaking into the water sources. People could get very ill drinking the water. Wine is also an antiseptic and can calm a contrary stomach. It has a good many uses. Jesus thought it so important that at the wedding in Cana, He changed the water in the big casks to wine. It was so much better than the wine served at first that people commented on it. The Bible doesn’t say to not drink wine. It says to not become drunk with it. As in everything, moderation.”

Astrid watched her friend speaking so rationally and calmly. How could anyone dispute him without sounding like a petulant child? Even his gentle voice helped carry the lesson along. She caught a glance from Mrs. Gansberg, and it was all she could do not to wink. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, which brought a slight nod in return.

Astrid glanced across the room at the naysayer, observing his expanding girth. Jesus also never said not to eat the food around them, but He did mention gluttony. A comment like that would most likely be the kind that would make her mother shake her head and look sad, as if to say, “How could my daughter say such a cruel thing?” So Astrid said nothing.
You’re letting your own hurt become
an attack against others.
The internal voice gave her a jab.

Rev. Thompkins appeared to be having a difficult time with his throat. Maybe he should cover his eyes too, so the laughter did not leak out.

Someone else coughed discreetly and raised his hand. “I liked the way Paul told Timothy to remember what he’d learned at his mother’s knee and went on to praise her and the grandmother too. My grandmother is the one who encouraged me the most. From the time I was little, she said that God had a special calling for me. I tried to run away from it for a while, but God would not let me go. So here I am, and though my grandmother has gone home to be with our Lord, I think she is watching over me and praying for me still.”

Astrid caught the thought that tried to whip through her mind— the comment Rev. Arbuckle had made that she should get married and come back with her husband. Peter, the young man who had just spoken and whose name she was always forgetting, could become such a man, she was sure. He worked hard at his lessons, spoke wisely in class, and yet had a delightful sense of humor. He was pretty good-looking too. Not Nordic like the men in her family, he had wavy brown hair, which she’d call the brown of oak leaves as their color fades in the fall, and hazel eyes that crinkled at the corners. He had a deep voice, mid-baritone, that soared when they sang hymns, pulling the rest along with him. He had been polite to her from the beginning while not trying to force his ideas on her. Maybe if she didn’t have Joshua Landsverk on her mind— She jerked, startled at the trail her mind was taking.
Astrid Bjorklund, whatever are you thinking? If Maydell
were privy to your thoughts, she would burst her corset laughing.

But what about Joshua? If she were truly bound to him, would her thoughts even consider another? She was certain no one could have pulled Jonathan from Grace’s thoughts. Maybe this separation was a good test for both of them. Could it endure two years while she went to Africa?
If
she went? How many of the board agreed with Rev. Arbuckle’s position?

She ordered her attention back to the discussion going on around her. Wouldn’t Pastor Solberg like to be in the middle of this one? There she went again, off on a memory. What she needed was a good brisk walk to dispel all the thoughts of the ordeal of her interview with the mission board and then the dinner she’d been required to share with a man who really did not seem to like her at all. Was that what bothered her about him? That he didn’t like her? She’d met other people who didn’t like her. Red Hawk, for one, didn’t like her at first. But given time and working together, they became friends. How could one person have two different callings? Surely God wasn’t confused, so it must be her.

“Your lesson for tomorrow is to read Second Timothy and come prepared to discuss that too. I hope you are continuing in your memory work. Always remember, some of your greatest challenges may come when you do not have a Bible at hand. But if the Word is in your mind and heart, the Holy Spirit can bring it back to you at that moment in time when you need it the most.” Rev. Thompkins paused, catching each one’s attention deliberately. “Class dismissed.” As everyone stood to leave, he beckoned to Astrid.

So much for my long walk.
She made her way to his desk in the front of the room. “Yes, sir?”

“I thought perhaps you and I and the doctor and his wife could go to the dining room for a cup of coffee, or lemonade if you prefer.”

Astrid nodded, studying his face and hands while he talked with Dr. Gansberg. Something was wrong, but she had no idea what. Was her teacher pale? His hands shaking? Sure it was warm, but he seemed both pale and ruddy. Silly. One cannot be both. The argument going on in her head nearly drowned out the conversation between the other three as they guided her with them to the dining room. Did Dr. Gansberg notice anything? She couldn’t just out and out ask— could she? What she wouldn’t give for her stethoscope right now. Or at least the chance to check his pulse.
Your imagination is taking over,
she remonstrated herself.
Or maybe you just miss practicing medicine
.

“So will that be coffee or tea or lemonade?” He beckoned the young man over from the serving table. “Can we have our drinks outside on the veranda?”

“Of course, Rev. Thompkins. I’ll bring them right out. You want cookies to go with that?”

He nodded, thanked the student, and herded his three guests outside to a wrought-iron table with four chairs. Clusters of wisteria hung down from the trellis above, sweetening the air and luring the buzzing of honeybees.

Astrid breathed in lungsful of the fragrant air. She glanced up at the purple blossoms, some with bits of white like a throat, all small blossoms that grew in clumps, much like she pictured grapes growing. “Do you think we could grow something like this in North Dakota?”

Rev. Thompkins chuckled. “I don’t know, but it grows well in parts of Africa too.” He sat down and leaned back in his chair, all the time focusing on her. “So how do you feel your interview with the board went?”

Astrid stared at him, eyes wide. Nothing like jumping right in. She looked to Dr. Gansberg, as if he could help her. Back to the reverend. To be honest or polite, which was it?

“My mother would say that
fine
might fit here,” she said.

“Fine?”

“And what would you say?” Mrs. Gansberg asked in a gentle voice.

In for a dime, in for a dollar. She had no idea where that old phrase came from, but it fit. “I get very tired of hearing that a young, unattached female would do better if she went home, found a man who wanted to be a missionary, and then came back. I didn’t ask to come here!” Her heart tempo kicked up as did her voice tempo. “If you remember, going to Africa was not on my wish list. I did not just wake up one morning and think, oh my, I want to go to Africa, where they have fierce wild animals, mean venomous snakes, and natives who really don’t like white people coming and telling them what to do.”

“Not all feel that way,” a soft voice said, breaking in to her diatribe.

“Well, maybe not, but the only one here who doesn’t seem to feel that way is being pretty silent, and He’s the one who started all this. If God’s not worried about this, then why are all those around me so concerned?”

“Not all.”

She heaved a sigh, a deep sigh that started in her toes and worked its way up, hopefully bringing along some of the baggage she’d been dragging around. Her eyes stung, and she sniffed.
I will not cry now!
She repeated the order and clamped her teeth. Anything to fight back the tears. This was not a crying matter. A man in these circumstances would not cry, so she would not either. “That’s true. Not all.” She sort of smiled at those around her.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Rev. Thompkins asked, leaning forward.

“You ask the hardest questions.”

“
Simple
and
easy
do not mean the same, do they? But to get to the bottom of things, you must always ask questions, ponder them, and ask more questions. Do you think God is upset if you ask questions?”

Astrid thought about an answer. “Is asking questions doubting?”

“What did Jesus tell Thomas?”