The Promise of Dawn

by Lauraine Snelling

  They had turned at Benson’s Corner and were well on the way to the Strands’ lane.

  Finally, finally, he could say, “Turn here.” Lights from the windows beckoned them in. “You go right in, and I will take care of your horse.”

  “Of course.”

  Rune was out of the trap before the wheels stopped turning. “She’s here!” he shouted when the back door opened.

  Mrs. Benson came to the edge of the porch. “Good evening, Velma. I’m so glad you could make it.” She took the midwife’s bag. “Come this way.”

  Rune returned to the house to the sound of a baby crying. Was that good or bad? Good that she was strong enough to cry, bad that her mor might not be able to feed her.

  The boys met him at the door, Leif dashing away tears, the other two wide-eyed and terrified. The bedroom door was closed, and he gripped each one on the shoulder. Leif attached himself to his far’s side.

  “Any word?”

  All three shook their heads. “Mrs. Benson made supper, and Onkel Einar went back to the machine shop. He was not very nice,” Knute reported, looking to Bjorn, who nodded.

  “He did not say anything,” Bjorn added, “just ate and left. Tante Gerd ate with us too.”

  “We got to see Mor and the baby, but not for long. Far, what is happening?”

  What to say? How to explain? “Your mor is having complications from the baby coming so soon and so fast.”

  “Is she going to die?” Leif’s blue eyes were puddles of tears.

  Not if I can help it. But that was the agony. He couldn’t do anything. Could any of them help? Really, this was in God’s hands. Mercy, oh Lord God, I plead your mercy upon us. Only you can make the bleeding stop. Please, use the others to keep Signe here for all of us. Lord, you know how we need her. Mercy, please, mercy. He hugged his boys close. Bjorn stood back just a bit and when Rune looked at his face, all he could see was agony. No matter that Bjorn was trying to be strong, he was close to crying.

  Mrs. Benson came out of the bedroom, and the four of them moved toward her as one. “Keep praying,” she said softly. “Your mor is strong, and we are doing all we can.”

  “How is the baby?” Rune asked.

  “She nursed again, so she is content. We have her sleeping in a drawer for now.”

  “I did not get the cradle finished.”

  “She does not need that yet. She’ll be swaddled next to Signe most of the time.”

  “What can I—we do?” Bjorn asked.

  “You can fill the woodbox so we can keep the fire going. The dishes are in the dishpan. . . .”

  “I can do the dishes.” Leif broke away, as did the others, Bjorn and Knute headed for the door.

  “Take a lantern.” Rune fetched one out of the pantry and lit it for them. At least keeping his hands busy would make the time go by. He joined Leif at the dishpan. “I will wash, you dry.”

  Leif stared at him, round-eyed.

  “It’s all right. I do know how to wash dishes.” He washed a plate, dunked it in the rinse water, and handed it to him. “See?”

  One by one, Mrs. Benson let each of them in to say good night to Signe. She reached up and patted cheeks and managed some sort of smile. “I will be better by tomorrow. Now, you pray for us and sleep.”

  “If—when there is a change, I will tell you,” Rune told the boys.

  “Promise?”

  “Ja, I promise.” He watched them climb the ladder that had brought all of this on. Whatever had possessed her to go up in the attic? But more important, how soon could they get the stairs made? But why bother if she . . .

  Rune stepped out onto the back porch. I cannot allow myself to think such thoughts. Lord God, help me. What do I do? Why oh why did I not go ahead and build the stairs? I knew they were needed. The other side of his mind answered his question. Because this is Einar’s house. And he said no. He felt like banging his head against a porch post.

  He reached back in the house for his coat and shrugged into it. “I am going for a walk,” he said softly to Mrs. Benson.

  “Don’t be gone long.”

  “I won’t.”

  He stepped off the porch and headed to the machinery shed, where a lantern still shone. Where would Einar sleep tonight? In the parlor on the floor? Stepping into the light, he saw a quilt folded on the seat of the side bench. Einar stood at the workbench, the lantern on the shelf in front of him.

  “Are the tools all sharpened?” Rune asked.

  Einar spun around, dropping whatever was in his hand. “Can’t you let a body know you’re coming?” His growl sounded the same as ever.

  “Sorry. I need something to do.” What he felt like doing involved fists, but violence would not help either of them.

  “I got it all sharpened.”

  Rune nodded to the quilt. “You going to sleep in the haymow?”

  “Better’n a floor. Got no bed.”

  If he says one thing about Signe, I will no longer be responsible for my actions.

  “Any change?” Einar asked.

  Rune gaped. “Nei.”

  “Then it looks like I’ll be sleeping out here in the cold for a while. You better get some sleep, or you won’t be worth anything tomorrow.”

  “I won’t leave her.”

  Einar glowered at him. “Did I say that?”

  “Nei.” Apologize. “Sorry.”

  Einar shook his head. “Put out the lantern when you leave.” He grabbed his quilt and strode off to the barn.

  Rune reached for the lantern and stared down at the board Einar had dropped. Lines had been drawn into it with a nail. It was a diagram for building stairs. Rune propped his arms on the workbench and hung his head. Surely this was an act of God. He blew out the lantern and returned to the house.

  Mrs. Jongkavn nodded from a chair at the table, where she sat drinking a cup of coffee. “I think it is slowing. It could change again, but for right now . . .”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Of course. Mrs. Benson is sleeping on the davenport, Gerd on a pallet in the bedroom.” She shook her head. “That is the only bed in this house?”

  “Pallets make do.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Signe is sleeping now. It might be better not to wake her.”

  “I won’t. I just want to sit with her a bit.”

  “And pray?”

  “Ja. Never prayed so much in my life.”

  She nodded. “Possible death brings that on. But I got a feeling the grim reaper is not going to take her. We will know more in the next couple of hours.” She swigged the last of her coffee. “Get some sleep.”

  He slipped into the bedroom and took the chair beside the bed. As if she sensed his presence, Signe’s eyelashes fluttered open. A slight smile touched her mouth as she raised her fingers off the blanket. He took her hand and blew out a breath. Ever so gently, he bent over and raised her hand to his face. The kiss was lighter than feathers, but her smile widened, and she nodded slightly before drifting back to sleep.

  “I love you, heart of my heart,” he whispered so softly the angels barely heard it. Laying her hand back down by her side, he watched her breathe. A tiny whimper came from the drawer at the foot of the bed. He rose and looked down at the baby whose entry had caused such problems. So tiny. He had forgotten how small babies were. He and Signe thought they would never have more children, and now look. Born in Amerika, a new life in a new land. He wanted to touch her, hold her, but he refrained. Anything to let Signe sleep and recover. We need a name for you. Gunlaug for my mor, or maybe Christina from Signe’s family. We are in a new land—how about a new kind of name? What could that be?

  He left the room without a sound and spread his pallet on the floor in the parlor as always. Fully clothed, since morning would be coming so soon, he feared he would not sleep. They had promised to wake him if there was any change.

  He heard the clatter of stove lids. Had he been asleep? It was still dark. Who was in the kitchen? Was it time to get up? He folde
d back his cover and reached for his boots. Perhaps he should check on Signe and the time.

  “Good morning, Mr. Carlson, looks to be a fine day.” Mrs. Jongkavn was just coming through the back door. “I hope I did not wake you feeding the fire.”

  “I wasn’t sure if I slept or not, but it looks like I have.”

  “The bleeding has slowed to near normal, if I may be so frank.”

  Rune felt a monstrous weight fly off his shoulders. “I-I was so afraid—for her. We have lost babies before, but I could not bear losing Signe.” He heard himself saying the words, but had he ever told her how he felt? They had married almost as a favor to each other. She already had a son who needed a far. He knew he wanted a family, but circumstances had prevented that.

  In these years since, why had he never spoken? Because I am a man of few words. And Signe loved to talk with her friends and relatives. What if I said the wrong words?

  “Has Mrs. Benson gone home already?” he asked.

  “No, she is outside. She plans to make breakfast before she leaves. I will go home as soon as it is light enough to drive safely.”

  “I will harness your horse. We put her in a stall in the barn for the night.”

  “Thank you. I get so involved with my patients, I forget all about my horse.”

  “We can never say thank you enough. I-I . . . ah, what is your fee?” he blurted.

  “I am grateful for anything you can offer.”

  “Would a dollar and a ham do?” That was all the cash he had. “The hams are nearly done smoking, so we could bring that to you in a day or two.” How humiliating.

  “That would be just fine. We don’t raise hogs, so ham is a rare treat. Thank you.”

  And if Einar yells about the ham gone, that is just too bad. One of these days he is going to be forced to pay us something. He rubbed his eyes.

  “I will go get your horse.” He nodded to the midwife and grabbed his coat off the tree by the door. The narrow strip of light in the east promised that the sun would return. He hunched down in his jacket. This morning was not chilly, it was downright cold. After lighting a lantern, he murmured softly to the midwife’s horse as he entered her stall, patting her on the rump as he passed. He lifted the harness that had been draped over the stall wall, settled it in place, and slid the bit in her mouth.

  Once outside, she tossed her head and pricked her ears at the sound of the rooster crowing. Dawn came swiftly once it started. Harnessed to the trap, she quietly followed him to the house, where he tied her to the hitching post.

  Mrs. Jongkavn met him at the door. “Thank you. I look forward to the ham.”

  He dug in his pocket and brought out his remaining dollar. “I wish it could be more. Thank you for saving us.”

  “I just did my job. God does the saving.”

  He helped her into the trap and waved as she trotted down the lane.

  The boys, on their way to chores, met him at the door.

  “Mor is better.” Leif shrugged into his coat. “We gotta hurry so we aren’t late. Mrs. Benson wants eggs—can you get the eggs from the well house and whatever else?” he threw over his shoulder as he jumped the porch steps.

  Both Bjorn and Knute grinned at him as they followed Leif.

  “What fine boys you have,” Mrs. Benson said as he set a basket with eggs, cream, butter, and a jug of milk from the well house on the counter. “Thank you. The coffee is nearly ready.” She leaned closer. “Does Mrs. Strand eat at the table with all of you?”

  “She does now that she is stronger. She could not walk, she was so weak when we arrived. Signe has been helping her.”

  “Now that is good news. She is still asleep, so I wondered. Will Mr. Strand join us?”

  “Ja. At least, I think so. He always does.”

  “I have to go home right after breakfast. Do you think you can manage until someone else comes to help? I have a friend I will ask. Signe should not get out of bed except to use the commode.” She studied him. “Can you manage? She lost a lot of blood and that makes one very weak. It takes time for the body to rebuild blood.”

  “Ja, we will manage. I’m not going out in the woods today, but Einar and Bjorn will, I am sure.”

  Despite his words, he felt worry creep back in. How would he manage? He hoped more help would hurry.

  Chapter

  29

  Right now, all Rune could do was think one moment ahead. He helped Mrs. Benson up into her cart and waved goodbye. The boys had gotten off to school with their dinner pails. Einar and Bjorn had left for the woods, even though Bjorn hesitated.

  “I could stay here and help.”

  “I think this is a better idea,” Rune told him. Keep the monster tamed was not a kind thought, but desperation took precedence here.

  “All right.”

  But Rune could tell his eldest son was less than pleased to be going out with Onkel Einar by himself. He leaned closer and dropped his voice. “But if he gets mean again, you come back to the house. Like we did before.”

  “Ja.” Bjorn hoisted the dinner basket, picked up the coffee jug, and headed down to the barn.

  Lord, protect him. Have I made the right decision? What if . . . ?

  Rune returned to the house to see Gerd sitting at the table. “Can I get you some coffee?” he asked after a brief hesitation.

  “Ja. Signe is sleeping. Did she eat?”

  “Nei.” He poured her coffee and pulled a skillet forward on the stove. “Eggs and toasted bread?” He had watched Signe toast bread by laying it right on the hot stove. He figured he could do that as well.

  “Takk. Is there oatmeal for Signe?”

  “Ja, Mrs. Benson saved some.” He nodded to a pot by the reservoir.

  She sipped her coffee, eyeing him. “Have you ever taken care of a baby?”

  He shook his head and cracked the eggs over the potatoes that were already in the pan, accidentally dropping some shell in as well. Stirring the eggs, he finally got the eggshell lifted out. The sliced bread browned more than necessary. Dishing up Gerd’s plate, he realized there was enough left in the pan for Signe. If she felt like eating. She had to eat, that was all there was to it. If he had to hand-feed her, he would. He slid the frying pan to the cooler part of the stove.

  “I’m afraid I am so weak I may drop the baby.” Gerd buttered her bread. “But I can change her and help Signe with her. But you must pick her up, I think.”

  Was this the same Gerd who had shrieked at Signe and ordered her around?

  “Ja.” He poured himself some coffee and sank down on a chair. Signe always made everything she did look easy, including not burning the toast. At least Gerd had not yelled at him. “The baby is right beside her?”

  “Ja, it is easier that way. I will hem more diapers. The ones we have need to be washed.”

  “Ja.” He nodded, and for some strange reason, his head kept going up and down. His mind bounced around inside his head, and he could not think clearly.

  “First fill the boiler with water and set it on to heat,” Gerd said, her voice almost gentle. “The soap is outside with the washing machine. The boiler, too.”

  “Ja.” He checked the woodbox. The boys had filled it like they always did, but he was using a lot of wood. When would he have time to split wood? He should have allowed Bjorn to stay home and help.

  After refilling the stove maw and setting the boiler on the hot part, he shaved some soap into the water.

  Gerd stood, taking her cane, and wobbled her way to the bedroom.

  The baby whimpered. Rune joined Gerd at the bedside, where Signe was awake but too weak to even set the baby at her breast.

  Where did propriety end and need begin? He’d helped calves learn to nurse but never a baby. His daughter’s tiny mouth latched on to her mother’s breast to nurse but let go after a minute or so. She screwed up her face to cry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Signe has no milk.”

  Rune stared at Gerd. “But how do we feed
her, then?”

  “We need a baby bottle.”

  “Where do we find one of those?”

  “I hope Mrs. Benson thinks to bring or send one out. In the meantime . . .”

  “Soak a clean rag in warm milk.” Signe’s voice was so weak, he asked her to repeat herself.

  Gerd turned to him. “We need milk from the well house. Boil a soft rag and dip it for her to suck.”

  “Ja. Signe has to eat too.”

  “I know. Hurry.” Gerd started to pick up the crying infant, then looked to Rune.

  “You sit down—”

  “Nei, pick her up and put her on the table. I will change her.”

  Rune nodded, picked up his daughter as if she might break, and set her on the table they had padded with a towel at the foot of the bed. He waited until Gerd had a hand on her. Red-faced and waving her fists, the baby paused only an instant. Rune ran all the way to the well house, grabbed a jug of milk from the tank, and ran back to the house. He dug out a small pan, poured milk in it, and set it on the stove.

  The boiler steamed and bubbled. The diapers. Where were they? Where was a rag to boil?

  “In here,” Gerd called.

  And Signe had not eaten yet.

  “Please, Lord, help me,” he muttered as he returned to the bedroom. His daughter had a fine pair of lungs, that was for sure.

  Gerd was sitting in the chair, rocking the little one back and forth.

  “A rag? The diapers?” he asked.

  “In the tall cupboard. Do not burn the milk. And there.” She pointed to a bucket of water and dirty diapers. “You have to rinse them outside, then add them to the boiler.”

  “Ja, the milk!” He dashed back into the kitchen, grabbed the handle of the pan, and pulled it over to the reservoir. The milk was steaming. Had he burned it? A rag. He found one in the cupboard and threw it into the steaming water.

  “How is the milk?” Gerd called.

  “Hot.” He sniffed the steam. “But not burned.”

  “The rag?”

  “In the boiler.”

  “Rinse it good to get the soap out.”

  Rune rolled his eyes. He should have thought of that.

  The baby kept on fussing, her cries louder.