The Promise of Dawn

by Lauraine Snelling

  When he finally brought the pan of milk and boiled rag to the bedroom, he followed Gerd’s orders like a confused puppy follows a two-year-old. How would they ever get his daughter to suck on a rag?

  “I will hold her, and you dip the rag and hold it to her mouth,” Gerd ordered.

  “And spill milk all over her.”

  “We can wash her. I will hold her face—hopefully.”

  “My baby,” Signe murmured.

  “We are trying to feed her,” Gerd explained. “You have no milk.”

  “Oh, I—afraid—of that.”

  Rune dipped the tip of the rag and tried to drip it into his baby’s mouth. And again. Each time it hit her cheek or chin, anywhere but her mouth. Lord, help us. “Would a spoon work better?”

  “Hush, little one, shhhh.” Gerd looked up at him. “Keep trying.”

  This time Rune touched his finger to her mouth. She opened to nurse, and he slipped the rag in place. She quit squalling immediately and sucked. After two or three pulls, he repeated his actions. “How about laying her on your knees? Might be easier.”

  Gerd shifted the infant to lie in her lap with her head toward Gerd’s knees. She kept up her murmur, laying her hands on either side of the child’s face. “She learns fast.”

  “Is she eating?” Signe asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

  “Ja, she is.”

  “Th-thank G-God.”

  Gerd and Signe shared a look that shouted of their agreement.

  When the baby lost interest in the rag, Gerd wrapped her up again, and Rune tucked her in next to her mor.

  “Set me up on the porch with the diaper bucket, and I will take care of those while you fix Signe something to eat. Beef broth would be best, but that is impossible. There might be leftover chicken soup in the well house.”

  Rune almost smiled. Never had he heard her talking like this. How Signe must appreciate the change. Lord, please give her strength like only you can give.

  Gerd took her cane and tapped her way to the kitchen. “If there’s no soup, bread in milk might be easier for her to eat.”

  Rune carried the diaper bucket out to the porch and set a chair beside it. “I will hurry.” He shot the washing machine a stern look. If he needed to use that too, he would.

  But first, get some food into Signe.

  Feeding her was easier than getting the baby to suck on a rag. He propped a pillow behind her and sat down to spoon chicken soup into her mouth. “You have to eat to get your strength back. Come on, Signe.” She nodded, a small nod, but her eyes fluttered open.

  “I-I am.” She opened her mouth when the spoon touched her lips. “Slowly,” she whispered after a couple of bites.

  “Gerd said you have to drink too. I will make tea, if you like. Or perhaps warm milk? Gerd said bread in warm milk might go down easily.” How strange—here he was the one talking while Signe drifted off. How often had he fallen asleep when she was talking?

  A minute shake of her head said she was finished.

  “One more.” He held the spoon firm.

  She raised a finger.

  “Ja, only one. But I will be back as soon as I get the diapers in the boiler on the stove.”

  With the diapers bubbling on the stove, he stirred them with a heavy faded stick that had been used in the wash for years. His mor had one just like it. How he wished Gunlaug were here with them. He heard the thumping of the sewing machine as Gerd hemmed more diapers. Where was she getting the strength to rinse out diapers and now sit at the sewing machine? Surely this was another miracle. It wasn’t that long ago that Signe had forced her to walk.

  When the boys got home from school, he would send Knute back to Benson’s for a baby bottle. If only he had gone ahead and built the stairs. He clenched his teeth against the anger at Einar that seemed to fester inside.

  Was that the baby again? So soon? He returned to the bedroom. Signe lay sleeping, but the baby was squirming. Did all babies eat this often, or was it because she never really got full?

  “S-sorry.” Signe turned her head just enough to see their daughter.

  “I will heat the milk again. Gerd is hemming diapers, so I’ll get her.”

  Gerd returned to the bedroom when he had everything together again. She changed the baby, sat down and held her just so, and he fought to get the milk in her mouth.

  “Can we keep her alive this way?” Rune whispered, not sure if he was asking himself or Gerd.

  “Ja. We will.” Gerd looked toward the bed, where Signe was now awake. “We will bring you something to eat when she is fed.”

  Signe nodded. “My baby . . .”

  Rune glanced at his wife, and milk slid down his daughter’s cheek.

  “Careful,” Gerd said.

  “Sorry.” He focused back on his daughter, not on his wife. Lord, please let them both live.

  With the baby fed, diapered, and back with her mor, he brought in a load of wood, fed the fire, stirred the diapers he’d forgotten on the stove, and pulled the coffeepot to the front to heat. His stomach reminded him to eat. He needed to get the diapers on the clothesline, or they would never dry. How on earth did Signe keep up with all these demands on her time?

  The tapping of Gerd’s cane made him look toward the sound. She carried a loaf of bread to the table. “Is there sour cream in the well house?”

  He shrugged. But more important, what were they going to have for supper? “I will go see. Anything else?”

  “Eggs. Did you add wood to the smokehouse fire?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Nei. But I will.”

  “Bring in buttermilk. We’ll have eggs and pancakes for supper.”

  “Ja.” He returned with buttermilk, sour cream, and eggs, setting them all in the pantry. Getting a jar of jam from the cupboard, he brought the sour cream and jam to the table, where Gerd had sliced bread for three plates.

  “You think Signe can eat this too?” He watched her spread the sour cream on the bread and the jam on top, his mouth watering already.

  “You feed Signe and eat with her.”

  He poured Gerd’s coffee first and then a cup for himself. Then, with cup and plate in hand, he returned to the bedroom and sat down by the bed. “Signe, you must eat.”

  Her eyes blinked open and a smile twitched her mouth. “S-sit up?”

  He stuffed a pillow under her head and shoulders. This time, when he held a spoon of food for her, she opened her mouth.

  “Good?”

  A slight nod, but at least she chewed and swallowed. He ate a bite himself and fixed her another. They finished the first slice and started the second before she turned her head away.

  “Coffee?”

  She managed three swallows before her eyes drifted closed again.

  He finished the bread and his coffee, watching his girls sleep. Lord, please make them well and strong, and help me to always appreciate what Signe does for us. I never knew, and I will never understand how she does all that is needed. If I don’t get the diapers scrubbed and hung, this baby will not have diapers to keep her dry.

  He sighed and heard the thump of the sewing machine again. Gerd did not seem able to stand and work, but she could sit. So very different than the months earlier.

  Lugging the full boiler out to the porch, he dumped the diapers and water in the washing machine, then returned with water for the rinse tub. Cranking the machine was simple, adjusting the wringer took some doing, but once he had the diapers wrung through into the rinse water, he felt like he’d won a battle. After hanging them on the clothesline, he returned to the house.

  “The baby is fussing again,” Gerd said.

  Leif and Knute both burst through the door. “Mor?”

  Gerd shushed them with a finger held to her mouth and pointed to the bedroom. “She is sleeping.”

  The boys tiptoed in to see her, then rushed back out.

  “One of you has to ride back to Benson’s for bottles for the baby,” Rune said.

  Leif got to the do
or first.

  “Knute, we need more firewood. If we both split . . .”

  “Ja, I will.”

  Gerd stood up. “Eat first.”

  Leif grabbed his sugared bread and butter, the list his far handed him, and ran back out the door.

  “You ever butchered a chicken?” Gerd asked Knute.

  He shook his head. “But I know how.”

  “For supper?” Rune asked.

  “Nei, soup for Signe. One of the older hens, not laying.”

  “I will help you.” Rune pumped water into the boiler and set it on the stove.

  They lopped the head off the chicken, dunked it in hot water to loosen the feathers, and stripped the old hen clean in a matter of minutes. “Now you gut her, and I’ll start splitting wood.”

  “Gerd is calling you.”

  Feed the baby again, it must be. Leif, hurry back with those baby bottles.

  Chapter

  30

  Mrs. Benson beamed at Rune when he answered the door. “I have brought you help.”

  “Come in.” Rune stepped back politely, motioning the two women inside.

  “How is Signe? And the baby?”

  He shrugged. “They are both sleeping for the moment.” He led the way to the kitchen.

  “Mr. Carlson, this is Mrs. Engelbrett. She has come to nurse your baby. She can tide us over until Signe’s milk comes in. I was pretty sure this would happen, so I went ahead and asked her to come. She can’t stay here, but she can come out once a day, nurse your baby, and bring her milk for you to use later. I hope you have given your daughter a name by now. When is feeding time?”

  Rune hoped he was smiling as he nodded. “I see.” He felt run over by the gush of words.

  “I also brought several baby bottles. Good day, Mrs. Strand.” She nodded to Gerd, who looked up from her hemming. “And we brought supper, if you would be so kind as to fetch the basket in the buggy, Mr. Carlson. Several of our ladies brought gifts of food for us to bring you.” She paused to catch her breath. “We met young Leif on the road. He went on to the store to get the other things on your list.”

  “Takk, tusen takk.” Rune led them into the bedroom. “Signe, we have company.” He touched her shoulder and smiled down at her when she forced her eyes open. “A woman has come who can nurse the baby.” He turned to Mrs. Benson. “We have not done well having her suck on a bit of cloth dipped in warm milk.”

  “But you got enough in her that she is not fussing.” Mrs. Benson removed her coat and laid it on the foot of the bed.

  “Sorry.” Rune took the coats and started toward the door. “I will get the basket from the buggy. Do you need anything else?”

  “No, we are fine.”

  As he left, Mrs. Benson was introducing the two women. He brought the basket in, set it on the table, and hustled back to Signe. Both women hovered over the bed. They had just finished changing the baby. The wet diaper lay on the floor.

  Mrs. Engelbrett was saying, “Gud, gud. And how long since you fed the baby?” Rune was relieved to hear that she spoke Norwegian.

  “About two hours,” Gerd announced from the doorway. “So far she wakes up every two hours, so she should be hungry anytime.”

  As if on cue, the baby whimpered and scrunched her mouth and face, searching for milk.

  “May I take her?” Mrs. Engelbrett scooped up the bundle and sat in the chair. With a little assistance, the baby stopped rooting and attached herself to a nipple.

  “She is so smart! Look, she took right to this.” Mrs. Benson beamed, her smile warming the room. “I see you have diapers on the line and it is nearing dusk. Would you mind if I brought them in?”

  Gerd laid two new diapers on the only remaining clean one. “They might not be dry yet.” She tapped her way back to the kitchen, where she pulled the coffeepot forward on the stove.

  Now what? Rune suggested, “Since we have help in here, I will go out and split wood.”

  Gerd nodded. “We can string a clothesline in the kitchen if we need to, to dry the baby things.”

  Stepping outside, Rune took over the splitting, and Knute stacked the wood on his arms to carry in to the woodbox.

  “Who is here?” Knute asked.

  “Mrs. Benson, and she brought someone to nurse our baby.”

  “Did she see Leif?”

  “Ja, and she brought baby bottles. He went on to the store for the rest. Haul a couple loads in, and then go start chores. I will be down to help you.” He glanced up when he heard the screen door slam. Mrs. Benson on her way to the clothesline. He should be doing that, but how could he, when they needed wood for the fire? Working out in the woods was far simpler. You just kept swinging the axe.

  He hefted the axe and slammed another quarter round into two pieces that fell to the ground. This axe needed sharpening.

  He and Knute filled the woodbox in the kitchen. “Were the diapers dry?” he asked Mrs. Benson.

  “Mostly.”

  “Do you need anything from the well house before we start chores?”

  She shut the oven door and smiled at him. “I think we’re fine for now.” She came closer and dropped her voice. “When do you expect Mr. Strand in from the woods?”

  “Anytime now.”

  “I see. Ah, could you keep him down at the barn until we call that supper is ready?” Her hands fluttered like nervous birds.

  “Ja, I suppose so.”

  “You see, young Mrs. Engelbrett, she is, ah—a bit fearful of him, what with his shouting and all.”

  Rune heaved a sigh and nodded slowly. “I see. I will do my best. Will you be staying for supper?”

  She shook her head quickly. “I—ah—no, we will leave as soon as she has finished her work here.”

  Questions bombarded him about Einar’s previous actions, but instead of commenting, he nodded again. “I will do my best.”

  “Supper is in the oven, and some other dishes might need to go in the pantry. Is Mrs. Strand able to, ah, put the supper on the table?”

  “I will take care of that. Takk for your help.”

  What in the world had Einar done to terrorize folks in the area?

  If only Signe could keep her eyes open, pay attention. The tiny bundle beside her squirmed and started mewling. Like a brand-new kitten or puppy. Perhaps it was a universal language of hungry newborns. If only she had milk for her tiny daughter. Had she the energy, tears might have leaked from her eyes and into her hair.

  “There now, hush, you don’t want to wake your mor.”

  The whisper sounded so sweet, no wonder the baby ceased her fussing.

  I want to be the one who feeds and comforts her. But her whole self fought to drag Signe back into a dark land where she wandered alone. She forced her eyes open as she felt the baby lifted away.

  “Takk.” She tried again, and this time the woman paused.

  “You are awake. Oh, Mrs. Carlson, how wonderful. You have such a beautiful baby girl. She’s smart too, nursing like an older baby. Took her no time at all to figure out what to do.” She paused. “I-I hope you don’t mind I feed her.”

  “Takk, tusen takk.” Signe hoped the sound carried farther than her mind. Mrs. Benson had introduced this woman, but Signe could not remember her name.

  “Ja, you are welcome. You just keep getting better so you can nurse her yourself.” She disappeared from Signe’s sight.

  Mrs. Benson took her place. “I brought you some chicken soup. I mashed the dumplings and vegetables so you can eat more easily.”

  “Takk.” Signe tried to help raise her head but lacked the strength to even do that, let alone feed herself. At least she could swallow, and that she did, forcing herself to swallow a few more spoonsful than she wanted, but Lord willing, she would get better.

  Mrs. Benson patted her shoulder. “You ate a good half a cup.”

  “Where . . . is . . . Gerd?”

  “She is rolling out biscuits for supper. I made the dough. She still has more diapers to hem. Babies sure go
through the diapers.”

  “Wash . . . diapers?”

  “Mr. Carlson did that. He is a good man.”

  Signe managed a nod and what she hoped was a smile. Ja, Rune Carlson was a good man. A good man who was doing things for which he had no training. In Norway her mor and sisters had taken over when she had the boys.

  In spite of herself, she drifted back to sleep.

  She woke to someone shouting. Einar. She had to get out of his bed. But when she tried to move, the baby squeaked. The fright woke her completely. Perhaps it had been a dream.

  Gerd leaned over her. “You awake?”

  Signe nodded and this time the “ja” came more easily. The room was dark but for the lamp. She could hear the sounds of forks against plates and food being passed.

  “Can you eat again?”

  “Ja.”

  “Your soup is hot. I will bring it.”

  Gerd returned in a short time, her cane tapping the floor. “Good, you are still awake. Ah, the baby settled back to sleep. Mrs. Engelbrett’s milk fills her up, so she can sleep longer.”

  “They are gone?”

  “Ja, but will come tomorrow.”

  Signe swallowed obediently. “Did you eat?”

  “Nei, but I will.”

  When they came from Norway, she had fed Gerd, and now look. Thank you, God above. “Do you have a Bible?” Talking took more strength than eating, but she could tell she was stronger. Not a lot, but some.

  “Ja, in the trunk.” Gerd paused. “You want more soup?”

  “A bit.”

  “Good. I will get it.” When Gerd returned, Signe was nearly asleep again but she forced her eyes and mouth open. “I will have Rune get out the Bible.”

  That was good. A good idea to drift off on. Signe slept again.

  Sometime later, she felt the baby squirm and make her searching noises. Before she hit the whimper stage, someone picked her up. Rune murmured to the infant. She heard a sniff and opened her eyes. She could see Leif outlined against the light from the kitchen.

  “Mor, you’re not going to die—are you?” Leif sniffed between the words.

  Her fingers twitched to take his hand. “Nei. I-I am getting better.”

  She could see his face split by a sun-rising smile. “Mor can talk!”