Threads of Hope

by Andrea Boeshaar

  As she set the last bowl of food on the table, Kristin gave Sam a smile. He sat beside his father, who was seated at the far end of the table. Jackson sat across from Sam.

  Mr. Sundberg cleared his throat, and Sam’s gaze jerked to his father. Kristin thought something unspoken seemed to pass through the men, which caused Sam’s smile to fade slightly.

  Mary entered the dining room and seated herself, and finally Mrs. Sundberg walked in and did the same.

  “Please, Kristin, sit down with us.”

  She backed away, shaking her head. “No, thank you, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Sundberg’s easy grin reached her. She patted the seat of the chair next to hers. “Come and sit.”

  “It would not be fitting, Mrs. Sundberg.” Kristin hurried back into the kitchen and, moments later, heard Sam ask the blessing over the food. She enjoyed the commanding sound of his voice, and as he prayed in English, she tried to pick out the words she knew. Thank you. Food. Bless. Miss Eikaas—

  Her gaze flew to the doorway, leading to the dining room. Why had Sam included her in the dinner prayer?

  Before she could think about it further, Mrs. Sundberg gracefully strode into the kitchen.

  “Please come and eat with us, Kristin.”

  She shook her head. “I should be ready to serve if anything else is needed.”

  “We will let you know if more is needed. However, you must eat so you maintain your strength. There is much to do on this farm.” She hooked her arm around Kristin’s. “Come and eat with us. Rachel always did.”

  “She did?”

  Mrs. Sundberg nodded.

  Kristin decided that she must do as she was asked. She allowed the woman to guide her back into the dining room. Jackson kindly held her chair.

  “Takk.”

  “In English, please.” Both Sam and Mary spoke at once.

  Kristin stared, first at him, then Mary. She couldn’t help a grin. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Eikaas.” Jackson’s overly polite manner caused Kristin’s smile to grow.

  “While you are here, I am going to teach you to speak English,” Mary said, with a determined expression.

  “Now, Mary …”

  “Oh, sorry, Ma.” She looked at Kristin. “If it is all right with you that I teach you, of course.”

  “I would like that, Mary.” What a kind offer.

  “I am almost eleven,” the girl added, “and I am a very good student at school. I help the other children who are slower at learning. Someday I hope to be a teacher.”

  “You will make a fine teacher.” Kristin felt touched to the core.

  “We will all help you,” Jackson said, “by making you speak English to us.” He smirked in a jesting manner.

  Kristin eyed him. He sat across from her, forking another bite of food into his awaiting mouth. She thought of her own brothers, now in heaven with God. The older one, Kjell, would have been about Jackson’s age if he’d lived.

  Shaking off her sad past, Kristin helped herself to a slice of pork, a spoonful of greens, and potatoes. Napkin in her lap, she lifted her fork and began eating. A different sort of spice gave her pause as she worked the vegetables around in her mouth. It wasn’t hot, just strong and quite pleasant. She swallowed and picked up her knife to cut off a bite-sized piece of meat.

  Around her everyone spoke in English, and it seemed as though Mr. Sundberg made some sort of announcement because expressions of surprise and wonder appeared on Jackson’s and Mary’s faces.

  Mary looked across the table and met Kristin’s gaze. “Sam is going to Madison,” she said in Norwegian. “Madison is our state capitol here in Wisconsin. There is going to be an official hearing for the Menominee Indians, and Sam is going to help mediate.”

  “It sounds very important.”

  “It is.” Mary bobbed her head. “And Sam might be gone until Christmas.”

  Kristin worked very hard not to show the inexplicable sense of disappointment winding its way around her insides. Sam had been her only real friend since she’d arrived in Brown County.

  Now he was leaving and would be gone for months.

  But perhaps that was best. Kristin’s gaze fell to the food on her dinner plate. She was, after all, his family’s slave and in a social class well beneath the Sundbergs. No longer could there be friendship—or anything more—between Sam and herself.

  Besides, both her uncle and Mr. Sundberg forbid it.

  Another wave of disbelief crashed over her. Her family had all but disowned her. The Olstads too. How could they?

  When the meal was finished, Kristin noted that she’d cleaned her plate in spite of her toilsome musings. She must have been hungrier than she realized. Standing to her feet, she quietly collected the ironstone china, and when her arms couldn’t carry a single additional plate, she made her way into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Sundberg entered behind her. “We will make coffee now. I baked apple pies this morning. After dessert, we will wash the dishes.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She kept her gaze lowered, hoping she behaved in a manner worthy of her new post. What she feared more than anything was disappointing the Sundbergs. If they turned her out, where would she go? What would she do?

  “You seem quieter than last Sunday when we visited. You must be tired today.”

  Kristin shook her head. “No, I am fine. I will work until you tell me to stop.”

  Mrs. Sundberg paused in the middle of cutting the first slice of pie, and Kristin glanced up to see her peculiar expression.

  “Once the dishes are washed, your evenings are your own, Kristin.” She smiled. “I suppose I should have said that. You see, Rachel had been with us for so long, I just forgot to state my expectations. I apologize.”

  “No need.”

  Mrs. Sundberg continued slicing the pie, and Kristin held out the first plate.

  “We begin our day at dawn. Karl, Sam, and Jackson go out and do the milking and fetch fresh eggs. You can use that time to wash and dress.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Rachel usually made coffee, so I will give you that job. But, of course, I will show you how to use the stove first.”

  Kristin made a mental note.

  “When the men and Jackson return from the barn, we make breakfast. There will be days that I will not be able to help you because of my … condition.”

  “You mentioned before that you are ill. But you look well.”

  “Thank you.” The woman smiled. “I have had a series of good days lately. But when I have one of my episodes, I can barely get out of bed without help.”

  “I–I am sorry to hear it.”

  “It is the reason I need a house girl to help me, particularly on those bad days.”

  Kristin held out a second plate onto which Mrs. Sundberg lopped another piece of pie. “I will do whatever I can to make things easier for you.”

  “I know you will.” She turned and wiped her hands on her apron. Then she cupped Kristin’s face. “That is why I am glad you are here.”

  The tenderness in Mrs. Sundberg’s voice brought tears to the forefront, but Kristin did her best to blink them back.

  “I will serve the pie now.” She sidestepped Mrs. Sundberg, and with a plate in each hand, she reentered the dining room.

  CHAPTER 9

  IT DOESN’T TAKE a genius to conclude that Kristin is unhappy here, Pa.” Sam bridled the horses while Pa straightened the harnesses. “I think she’s trying too hard to please us.”

  “Better than not trying at all.”

  “I suppose.” Sam straightened, waiting for Pa to catch up. “Can’t she see she’s got better accommodations here? We’ll give her a chance at the future.”

  “I don’t know what she sees, Sam. But I do recall warning you to stay away from her.”

  Sam knew it was so, and yet it proved almost impossible for him to avoid Kristin—not that he wanted to.

  Above them, the golden leaves of clustered birch trees shimme
red on the morning breeze. Together he and Pa hitched the horses to the wagon so it could be used for riding to church. When they finished, they sauntered to the house to put on their Sunday best.

  Both men paused in the mudroom to wash their hands.

  “At least she can make coffee the way I like it now,” Pa whispered. “Last three days I thought that brew of hers would take the hair off my chest. It was just that strong.”

  Sam chuckled. “Maybe you could tell her that—that she succeeded with the coffee. I think you’ve been awfully terse with her.”

  “Now, don’t go making this my fault, Sam.”

  “I’m not. I’m only suggesting that you be nicer. Right now she probably can’t see a difference between you and that ogre of an uncle of hers.”

  Pa replied with a look as mean as Kristin’s coffee.

  Sam only chuckled, causing Pa’s features to relax.

  “Pa, you’ve got godly convictions, and you passed your faith onto Jack, Mary, and me. I admire you for it.”

  Pa inclined his head. “I appreciate the accolade, son.” He paused as if he wanted to say more but then moved toward the kitchen. “We had best get moving if we want to make it to church on time. You know how I hate walking in late.”

  “I know, Pa.”

  Leaving the mudroom, Sam ran upstairs and changed. Ma had ironed his chambray shirt and dark blue trousers. As was his habit, he buttoned a pair of suspenders to the waistline of his pants then slid them onto his shoulders. Finally he pulled on a dark jacket. Grabbing his Bible, he went back downstairs. He found the ladies waiting outside near the wagon. His gaze fell on Kristin. She looked fetching in her fitted brown dress

  “Good morning.” Sam reached the wagon, smiled, and set his Bible under the seat. “May I lend my assistance?” He bowed dramatically, garnering a giggle from his sister.

  Then he glimpsed Kristin’s timid grin and decided his theatrics were well worth the effort.

  Ma took his hand, and he lifted her slight frame easily into the wagon. Next he swung Mary into the bed, causing her to squeal. He chuckled and extended his hand to Kristin. She placed her gloved fingers in his palm, and Sam boosted her into the second seat of the wagon, next to Ma. Seconds later Jackson came running from the barn, still sporting a blackened eye from the fight four days ago. He climbed into the back of the wagon. Pa strode out of the barn after him, his jacket slung over one arm.

  “Karl, put on your good suit coat,” Ma said.

  “I will as soon as we get to church. I’m as hot as your cookstove from searching creation for Jack.”

  “Sorry, Pa. I wanted to check my traps, and I lost track of time.”

  “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Pa climbed up into the wagon.

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Sam hopped into the wagon just as his father gathered the horses’ reins in one fist.

  “Everyone ready?” Pa asked.

  “Ready,” Ma answered, with Jack and Mary echoing her.

  Sitting back in the seat, Sam watched the scenery go by. He still had hay baling to do, but it dried nicely in the field. By this time next month, the winter squash and pumpkins would be ready to harvest.

  “The crops are looking well, son.” Pa turned to Sam and grinned. “You’ve done a fine job this year.”

  “Thanks.” Sam didn’t hold back a smile. Pa’s praise meant a lot, particularly since he didn’t dole it out often. That’s why going to Madison in his stead meant a great deal to Sam. It meant Pa trusted him—well, at least to a point. It was obvious that Pa didn’t trust him around Kristin. But that was Sam’s fault, and he took full responsibility. Still, he couldn’t seem to help it. When he worked in the fields or in the barn, Kristin permeated his thoughts, almost to distraction. Once he almost let the cows into the pigpen instead of out onto the grassy knoll behind the barn. In the evenings, Sam felt content to watch Kristin sew. She was amazingly adept in mending even Jackson’s torn clothes.

  But what did his happiness matter if she wasn’t happy?

  Pa nudged him, and Sam returned to the present.

  “Did you hear what I just said?”

  “No, Pa.”

  He grunted. “You’ve never been a daydreamer before.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “What’s with you, Sam?”

  He thought about it while sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “Well …” Pa straightened. “You’ll be happy to learn that I contacted a friend of mine in Madison. I’m sure he’ll be happy to let you stay there for a bit.”

  “Thanks.” Sam’s reply came out terser than anticipated, except he disliked his father’s manipulation. If Kristin proved to be the wife Sam had been praying for, then there was nothing Pa could do to get between them. But Sam wasn’t in any kind of hurry to marry. Neither was Kristin, it would seem.

  He caught himself. Why was he entertaining ideas about marrying her anyway? He’d only met Kristin a week ago.

  Sam shook off his wayward thoughts, although lately that particular line of thinking had become less and less manageable.

  Pa flicked the reins and steered the team into the churchyard.

  Finding a place in the shade, he pulled the wagon to a halt and braked it.

  Jack and Mary jumped down. Pa helped Ma alight, so Sam reached for Kristin, and hands on her waist, he helped her from the seat.

  “Takk.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Thank you.” Kristin sent him a look of mild irritation.

  Smiling, he turned and trailed behind his parents as they made their way toward the church’s opened front doors. Within moments, however, he sensed Kristin hadn’t followed. He whirled around to find her still standing near the wagon, her gaze downcast.

  Enough was enough. Sam approached her. “Did I offend you?”

  She brought her gaze up to meet his. “Offend me? No. How?”

  “Well, I …” Sam didn’t know how to explain. “Why are you not coming into church?”

  Kristin’s shoulders seemed to deflate. “I do not know what to do.”

  “I am not understanding.” Sam leaned against the wagon.

  “Where do I sit? That is, it is not fitting for me to sit with your family.”

  “Not fitting?” Sam narrowed his gaze, wondering what that meant. Had the Eikaas-Sundberg feud come to roost in her heart too? Was she ashamed to be seen with Sam and his family? Could that be the reason she appeared so unhappy of late? He decided to press the issue. “Why is it not fitting?”

  Kristin’s stare clouded with doubt. “Does a slave sit with her owners? I am afraid I don’t know what is appropriate. Perhaps I should sit in the back row.”

  Sam blinked. “Slave? What are you talking about?”

  “But of course you know that your father purchased me for a cow and pig. I came all the way from Norway only to be sold into slavery, although I must admit that, even in my low position, your family has treated me very well. Better than my own relatives.”

  “Kristin, I believe you have misunderstood the circumstances. You are not a slave. My family has a moral opposition against owning slaves. We simply offered you a job, as my mother needs the help around the house.” Sam shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “It was my idea. I only wanted to help.”

  “And you have. I owe you my life.”

  “You owe me nothing, Kristin.” Sam tried to drive in the point. He had helped Kristin the way he’d help anyone in need. “You work hard. I have seen you the past few days. You have more than earned your wages already.”

  “Wages?”

  “Of course. In addition to room and board you will receive a small monthly payment. I thought Ma would have told you that.”

  “Perhaps she did …” She gave a single wag of her head before peering down at the tips of her leather boots.

  “You have had a lot of information thrown at you. You cannot be expected to recall every detail. But, yes, you will earn a wage.”

  Kristi
n brought her gaze up to his. “I am so grateful, Sam.”

  “I know. We all know that. And you are doing just fine.”

  Relief spread across her features.

  “Now, as for church, you are more than welcome to sit with us, although if you think it will provoke your uncle—”

  “Ha! My uncle … what do I care if he is provoked? I will sit with you and your family.”

  “Very well.” Sam felt pleased with her decision. He cupped her elbow and guided her forward. “Ma likes you. And Pa is getting used to your coffee.”

  Kristin put her gloved hand over her mouth, trying in vain to conceal a grin. “I am learning how to use that fancy stove in the kitchen.”

  “Yes, and we know it takes time.”

  Another couple of wagons pulled into the churchyard. The Dinsmores and the Olessons called out greetings as they passed on their way to find a place to park.

  Kristin paused near the doorway. “Thank you, Sam.”

  “You’re welcome.” He figured he’d do almost anything to get her to smile. “You look lovely today.”

  “Takk … and I feel so much better, now that I am not a slave.” She looked suddenly awed. “And I will earn wages too.”

  “Your hard work is worthy of every coin.” He widened his smile. “Come on. Let us claim our seats before the sanctuary gets too crowded.”

  “The Lord bless thee, and keep thee. The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”

  Kristin felt a special blessing pour over her as Reverend Wollums finished his sermon. Her dream of someday becoming a business owner wasn’t as dashed as she thought. In fact, she’d moved a step closer to achieving her goal. With the money she earned from the Sundbergs, she would save for a shop. Of course, it would mean many years of saving, Kristin knew that. But at least she had real employment. She wasn’t a slave.