A Land to Call Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I wish Mor and Far were here.” Her voice sounded much like it had the nights long ago when the sisters had shared a bed in their parents’ home in Valdrez.

  “I wish they could see their grandchildren, our home here, and the one you will soon be head of.”

  “That . . . that house frightens me.”

  “Why ever? It is beautiful.”

  “I know. That’s the problem. I’m not used to such fine things. What if I break something?”

  “Just so long as it isn’t George’s heart, you needn’t worry about it.” Kaaren got to her feet, swollen in the summer’s heat. “Uff da. September in Dakota Territory sure ain’t the best time to be with child. Leastways this time I’m only carrying one. I looked like I was ready to deliver any day last time, and that was at only six months along.” She rubbed her back with her fists, then stretched as high as she could reach, her fingertips brushing the herbs she had drying in the rafters.

  “What did you think of the new pastor that preached last Sunday?” Kaaren asked.

  “I like him, and I’m glad he agreed to stay over long enough to marry us.” Solveig peered in the small mirror that hung above the washbasin. “Kaaren, answer me true.”

  “I always do.”

  “Do you notice the scar?” Her finger trailed the faint line from brow to chin.

  Kaaren shook her head. “Not anymore. I think it always looked worse to you than it did to any of us.” She paused. “I’m more concerned about any scars remaining on your heart.”

  Solveig whirled from the glass. “What do you mean?”

  “You were very angry with God and everybody else when you came to us.”

  “I know, but I finally asked God to forgive me and I know He did. What with all of you praying for me to get well, how could I not? At first I figured it was all God’s fault, with my leg so tore up and my face . . .” She fingered the scar again. “The meanness just slipped out, like if I didn’t say things, I would blow up from the inside out. And then, little by little, like my leg healing, the awful feelings went away and it was like always, the way Mor and Far raised us. I think being away from God was the worst part.” She scrubbed one hand over the other, then raised tear-bright eyes to her sister. “But I’m not away from Him any longer, thanks to you and Lars and Ingeborg and Haakan. Even Metiz made me remember how our Father takes care of us, how He healed me, and she doesn’t believe in God the way we do.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that.” Kaaren crossed the room and turned her sister around. “Let’s get you out of this before the men come in for supper and something gets splashed on it.” She hugged her sister and unbuttoned the long row of covered buttons. “I am going to miss you.”

  Solveig laid her hand over her sister’s. “I’ll miss you, too, but at least you have Ingeborg close by and babies to keep you busy.”

  The sod walls of the school/church had been newly whitewashed the day before Solveig walked down the aisle on Lars’ arm to stand beside George and say her wedding vows loud and clear. When she saw the love shining in George’s eyes, the words came easy, and she meant every one of them. When Reverend Solberg pronounced the blessing, she heard a sigh and a few sniffles from behind them. The smile the pastor gave her made her heart bubble up and brim over, as if the blessing and smile had been from God himself. When she looked again at her new husband, the bubbling continued and flowed out to encompass all the people gathered.

  “God is good,” she whispered.

  “He is indeed.” George tucked her hand in his arm and led her back down the aisle and out into the sunshine where they could greet everyone.

  “Why you crying, Mor?” She could hear Andrew’s whisper from clear out the door.

  “These are tears of joy.” Ingeborg knew the futility of whispering to Andrew, who always replied with a gargantuan “huh?”

  With Astrid in her arm and holding Andrew by the hand, Ingeborg looked the very ideal of motherhood. Solveig held out her arms to them all. “Mange takk, my family.”

  Andrew looked up at her, suspicion rife upon his face. “You crying too.”

  “I’m so happy.” She bent down and kissed his cheek.

  He shook his head in obvious bewilderment, shook hands gravely with George, and looked around. “Where’s Ellie?”

  Ingeborg shook her head. “Those children have become each other’s shadow. Go with God, you two. You have been blessed indeed.” She wiped away the tear that threatened to overflow. “Don’t know why weddings always make me cry. My eyes can stay dry at funerals even, but not weddings.”

  Those around them laughed, the music joining in perfect harmony with the lark arias from the fields.

  “Would you like to join us for a wedding feast?” Haakan asked the pastor.

  He nodded, shook hands with another couple, and turned back to Haakan. “I would love to. Never have I met such a friendly group of people.”

  “Maybe it’s because you bring out the best in us.” Haakan pointed down the wagon track. “Just follow those to that barn over there. Now that the cows are on pasture, we cleaned it up for the party. There’s plenty of food, and dancing will come later. We have some pretty good musicians around here, you know.”

  “I think you must have everything around here that makes life worthwhile.” The sweep of his arm included the people, the sky, the sun, the land. “Thank you for the invitation.”

  Just before singing the grace back at the Bjorklunds’, Mrs. Valders, self-appointed queen of the quilters, stepped forward with a radiant quilt draped over her arm. “Mr. and Mrs. Carlson, we give you this wedding ring quilt as a token of our affection and blessing on your marriage. May the almighty God fill your home with love and laughter, children that make your life richer through the years, and . . . and . . .” She sniffed. “Here. I run out of words.” She laid the quilt over Solveig’s outstretched arms.

  Down in the corner were embroidered the words, “To George and Solveig Carlson on this their wedding day, September 15, 1885, Dakota Territory, from your friends at . . .”

  “We don’t have a name for our place . . . for our . . .” Mrs. Valders made a circular motion. “Not even for our school and church. When we get one, I will finish that.”

  “Thank you all.” Solveig hugged the glorious quilt to her chest. “Mange takk.”

  After the bride and groom drove off in the buggy, Ingeborg noticed Haakan in deep discussion first with one group and then another. At least the groups parted with smiles on their faces, so the conversations must be about something good.

  “What is going on now?” she asked him when she caught him by himself.

  “Just getting everyone’s opinions.”

  She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t she prodded. “Opinions on what?”

  He grinned down at her. “Ah, Inge, you are a curious one.”

  Again she waited. Nothing. In fact, he leaned to the side a bit as if he were leaving.

  “Haakan Bjorklund, I’m going to go over and tell that nice young minister that you have been cruel to your wife.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, drawing the glances of several of the neighbors.

  “Have you been drinking?” she hissed.

  He shook his head. “Not me and none others. I made sure that won’t happen again, least not at our house. But this is all about the minister. Everyone seems to like him and he likes us, so I suggested we offer him the chance to pastor our church.”

  “But . . . but we don’t have a church, a building, that is.” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “What if he were not only the minister, but he taught the school too? I think he would be a good teacher, the wonderful way he preaches. We’d solve two problems with one man.”

  “And where would this one man live?”

  Ingeborg thought again. “I’ve heard of places where the teacher boards at different homes each week. That way everyone shares in his keep.”

  “You know, wife, you have a good head on those shoulders . . .
”

  She started to smile her thanks. Until he finished, “. . . for a woman.”

  She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

  “Besides, he could take Olaf’s bunk in our lean-to.”

  “Where’s Olaf going?”

  “Over to the sack house. He wants to build a house there. Says he could start with a walled-off portion of the big building until we either get a soddy up or a frame house.” He leaned closer to her. “I think it better be big enough for four no matter which we build.” He nodded toward the couple walking close beside each other toward the river.

  “Nothing like a wedding to spark a little romance.”

  “Ha, that’s been sparking since long before today.” He ambled off in search of those he hadn’t spoken with yet. By the end of the day, they had an agreement. Reverend Solberg could take over as both pastor and teacher if he would like. Several of the men approached the young man together, and amid a spate of hilarity and shaking of hands, the plan was agreed upon.

  When Haakan quieted everyone to make the announcement, he introduced Reverend John Solberg as their new pastor. While nothing was said as to how they would pay him, the general assumption was to continue as they had for Olaf, with each family contributing an amount for each child. Those who couldn’t afford the cash would give in kind.

  “I want to thank all of you for the kind invitation,” Reverend Solberg said. “I look forward to many years of service here. I get the feeling we’re all going to be growing together.” He stopped talking and smiled at the children gathered. “School will start a week from Monday.”

  The party only slowed down and came to an end after sunset, when people finally began leaving to do their chores. There would be bellering cows on many farms that night, impatient for milking.

  “I know what they feel like,” Ingeborg said to Kaaren back in the soddy. “The cows, I mean. I got enough milk here for three babies. You want I should feed the twins too?”

  “You might have to. I’ve been giving them well-mashed food from what I cook, but they both think nursing is the best way. I won’t be able to feed three, that is for sure.”

  It wasn’t but two days later that Hjelmer rode a horse into the farmstead. He swung to the ground and tied the animal to a post at the corner of the house. Paws danced at his feet, yipping a high-pitched welcome. Goodie came to the door.

  “Why, Mr. Bjorklund, what a nice surprise.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Ingeborg will be done feeding the baby any minute now.”

  Hjelmer held his fedora hat in his hands. “What did she have?”

  “A girl. Named her Astrid. It means divine strength. Now ain’t that perfect for out here?”

  “Ja, strength is needed and much better from the divine.” He waved at the three boys out at the barn. “School hasn’t started yet, I see.”

  She stepped back and motioned him inside. “No, that will be next Monday. The new pastor, Reverend Solberg, will be teaching in place of Olaf.”

  “I saw him down at the sack house. Some building that is. Splitting shingles for roofs must keep those three I saw at the barn out of trouble.” Hjelmer blinked in the dimness of the soddy. “Hello, Ingeborg.”

  “Hello to you too. Welcome home.”

  “I’m going out to check on the boys,” Goodie said as she went out the door.

  “Besides splitting shingles, the boys do chores, along with the hunting and smoking I used to do. Don’t know how we are going to manage next week after school starts.” Ingeborg held Astrid against her shoulder and patted the baby’s back until a hearty burp made Hjelmer smile.

  “Real ladylike, ain’t she?”

  “That’ll come if her far has anything to say about it. So, how are you?”

  “Good, good. Think to be coming home soon as the snow flies.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful.” Ingeborg stopped at the look on his face. “What is it?”

  “Have you heard from Penny?” He traced a finger around the rim of the coffee cup Goodie had handed him before she stepped outside.

  “Not for some time. She was here in June for a bit.”

  “Did she ask about me?”

  Ingeborg shook her head. “But then we didn’t see her for long.” Lord, please keep him from asking any questions I can’t answer.

  “I see. Think I’ll stop over to the Baards’, then I got to head back right away. I spent two more days in Fargo looking for her. Agnes has to tell me where Penny lives. Or at least give me her address so I can write to her.”

  No, she doesn’t. Ingeborg bit back the thought before it could become words. “Will you be back for supper?”

  He shook his head. “I need to get to Grafton yet tonight so I can catch the train again. I’m working out west beyond Minot and with one day off a week—if we’re lucky—I can’t get back to Fargo until we shut down in the late fall.” He turned to the door, then paused. When he spoke, his voice carried the uncertainty of a young boy. “You . . . you think Penny wants to see me, hear from me?”

  “Ah, Hjelmer, how can I know what is in her heart now? She wrote to you faithfully for so long, and you never answered after that first letter. She believed in you, you know?”

  “But I only got one letter.” Still young, his voice now held the pain of unshed tears.

  “I don’t know what happened to them, but she sent a letter along to be mailed with anyone who went to town. And each time they didn’t bring a letter back, I think the pain in her heart dug a mite deeper until maybe now it is too great to overcome or has formed a callous to protect her.” Ingeborg wove her hands into the fabric of her apron. Dear Lord, help these two young people come together again if it be your will. “Hjelmer, when I don’t know how to handle something, I ask God for help.”

  His shoulders sagged. “I been asking.”

  “Sometimes a sin in our lives blocks His answers.” It took all her courage to say the words, soft words that came gently through the dimness.

  “Ja.” He nodded. “Mange takk, Inge. I will see you again when the ground freezes.”

  “Go with God, Hjelmer.”

  He nodded again and strode out the door. After waving to the boys busy with their froes and butts set up in the shade, he nudged his horse into a lope across the prairie.

  Ingeborg watched through the window until he was a black dot against the setting sun. “Lord above, I know you have something special in mind for that young man, and I know that only you can bring it about.”

  Sorry, Hjelmer, I cannot tell you that.” Agnes shook her head. “Cannot or will not?” He immediately knew he had gone too far.

  She seemed to grow inches taller, her jaw tightened, and lightning flashed from her eyes. “I think, young man, that is none of your business.”

  Hjelmer could feel his hat crushing between his fingers. He wished for a moment it was more than his hat. How . . . why is she being so stubborn? “Agnes,” he paused. “Mrs. Baard, I love Penny and I want to marry her. You knew that.”

  “Funny way you have of showing you love her.” The disdain in her voice matched the look she shot him.

  He started to say something, then stopped. One finger stabbed a hole in the felt. He took in a deep breath. “What must I do to prove that I love her?”

  Agnes stared into his eyes as if plumbing the depths of his soul.

  He forced himself to stand without shrinking away.

  Again she shook her head, slowly this time, as if the weight of it were more than she could bear. “I don’t know, Hjelmer. I believe you are too late.”

  “Has she married?” His voice squeaked on the last word.

  “No.”

  “Is she engaged?” Again a shake of the head. “In love with someone else?” The silence answered him. He could feel his heart tearing, ripping, much like the shredded hat in his hands.

  “I see.” Two words. Two simple words but the end of a dream, of a plan, of a life.

  “I’m sorry.” Lord, have I lied? Or did I jus
t not tell the whole truth? But Agnes held her ground and watched him go out the door. The curve of his back and neck cried out to her. How does one prove they love another without . . . She cut off the thought and returned to slicing the meat for supper.

  By the time Hjelmer had ridden barely a mile, he could feel the fire begin in the pit of his stomach. “What gives her the right to keep us apart?” he roared to the heavens. The horse flicked its ears back and forth and added a spurt of speed. “It is for Penny to say if she no longer wants to see me!”

  A crow flapped, cawing into the air.

  He felt like striking someone, something. “God, if you are listening, this isn’t fair!”

  He galloped a distance more, drumming his heels into the sides of the now lathering horse. “Why are you hiding Penny from me?” He shook his fist at the heavens. “Your face from me?” The shock of the words made him pull the horse down to a trot. What was he doing? His voice softened. “God, are you hiding your face, or have I not been seeking you?” He stared toward the clouds. “I’ve been begging for help. I didn’t lie to Agnes.” The only answer he heard was the air pumping in and whistling out of the horse’s flared nostrils. He stopped and got off to walk. “Sorry, animal, I . . . I know better than to take my anger out on a poor, dumb creature like you. Far would take the buggy whip to me if he saw my horse lathered like this.” As he strode across the prairie, more of what his father had said in the past came to his mind. Do your best and a little bit more and you’ll have the approval of others and most important, your own. The horse’s breathing quieted.

  Fear God and love the brethren. Hjelmer snorted at the remembered words, laughing at himself. “I might not love all the brethren, since right now one of the sisters is standing in my way. But I sure do love one of the other sisters. Ah, Penny, does it take losing the dream to make this hard-headed Norwegian realize what a fool he’s been? You’re more important to me than the money. I can always make more money, but only God could make someone like you.” He stopped and stared at the horizon, flaring orange and every shade of red imaginable, the clouds burnished by the master’s hand. The horse rubbed his sweaty forehead on Hjelmer’s back.