by Ford, Linda;
* * *
Anker made sure he stayed close to Lena throughout the party. Inga seated them together at the meal. Anker explained the special Norwegian dishes. She tried them all and seemed to enjoy everything except the cream porridge, although she ate it without comment. He guessed he would be the only one who could accurately read her reaction. She was adept at hiding her feelings, but over the weeks they’d been under the same roof he’d picked up on the little clues—the way she crossed her arms and held her elbows when she was afraid, the way her lower jaw jutted out when she didn’t agree, the way her expression got all soft and kissable when she enjoyed something, the way her eyes grew dark and shadowed when she was sad . . .
“After we eat, we play games,” Inga told Lena.
“It is a lot of fun,” Kirsten said. “We play circle games.”
Anker felt Lena’s worry and whispered in her ear. “It really is fun.”
She quirked an eyebrow to inform him her idea of fun might differ from his. But she allowed him to lead her to the big circle of chairs the family dragged into the middle of the floor, and the fun began. They played games from his youth: guessing games, games to test one’s memory, games that had no purpose other than to get someone to laugh.
“Lena maybe has favorite game,” Inga said as they sat back, weak from laughter.
Lena’s eyes sparkled and Anker knew she’d been enjoying herself. “I used to play one at school when I was very young. It was called ‘gossip.’” She explained how the first person whispered a message in the ear of the person next to her and that person whispered it to the next and so on until it made the circle.
Magda clapped her hands. “It sounds like fun.”
“Lena, you start,” Ingvald said.
She nodded, considered what to say, and then leaned over and whispered in Anker’s ear. Having her so close, feeling her breath against his cheek, made it almost impossible for him to concentrate. He had to ask her to repeat what she said.
“Can’t. It’s against the rules. You have to figure out what I said and pass it on.”
Well, put together one inattentive man, two adults who barely spoke English, and the resulting message was so garbled it had no bearing to the original one.
Lena laughed hard. Anker thought she had never looked more beautiful or desirable. How could he think of letting her go come spring? And yet he’d given his word and must uphold it. He let his sadness linger only a moment. He had months to enjoy having her and Charlie yet. His hope and prayer was she would change her mind.
But doubts dogged his thoughts. No woman had ever found him or what he had to offer to be enough. Why should someone as independent as Lena do so?
“Is it time yet?” little Hilda asked.
Anker stood. “It is time for us to go home.” They’d let the family open their gifts in private.
Amidst calls of Merry Christmas in both English and Norwegian, Anker and Lena said good-bye and thanked the Nilssons several times. Then Anker settled Lena on the buggy seat with Charlie on her lap, wrapped a fur robe around her, and they headed home. Within minutes, Charlie fell asleep. “He wore himself out playing with the children.”
“He certainly enjoys the company.”
The night was perfectly still. The sky so clear the stars seemed to almost rest on their shoulders.
“It’s like driving in a mirror,” Anker said.
“So many stars.”
He let the horse slow its pace and put his arm around Lena. She leaned close, almost nuzzling his shoulder. He was certain if she knew how much she revealed by that slight movement toward him, she would never do it again.
“Grandfar said the sky is a big sieve and the stars are holes God has poked to pour out His love. He said if we felt the full force of God’s love we would be so overcome we would live forever face down on the ground.”
She shifted a bit to adjust herself to his side. “Your grandfather sounds very wise.”
“He was. Practical too. He taught us all how to do every chore on the farm and do it well. He wouldn’t tolerate shoddy work from his sons or his grandchildren.”
“What a strange combination—a taskmaster who talked about God’s love.”
“He was never anything but kind in his demands. Love ruled his heart and his actions.” He prayed for wisdom as he sought a way to make her see that a man could be both. “I hope I am like my grandfather.”
She shifted again to smile up at him. “I think you must be.”
Her words eased away a portion of his former thoughts that he wasn’t good enough for a woman. Did she know that he would always try and do what was best for her? That he cared about her and Charlie? Not just as an obligation or duty, though he knew she would feel more comfortable with that than what he felt. And what did he feel?
He flicked the reins and put his attention to the trail.What was the point in thinking what he truly felt? He was bound by his word and her single-minded desire to be on her own.
The next morning, he put two parcels under the small tree. Lena slipped from the bedroom and put two more under the tree. She noticed the ones already there and sent him a shy, curious look, but she said nothing.
They managed to divert Charlie from the excitement of the mysterious parcels long enough to eat breakfast.
“I done,” Charlie announced.
“And a good boy you’ve been. Let’s go, Mama.” Anker scooped Charlie into his arms to protect the parcels.
Lena insisted on giving Charlie Anker’s gift first.
He tore open the brown paper to reveal the animals Anker had carved. “Animals. He immediately began to line them up from the largest to the smallest.
“He’ll be content with those for a few minutes. You’re next.” Anker handed his parcel to Lena. He’d known since he brought the hairbrush set what he wanted to get her.
She took out the two ivory hair combs, her eyes wide. “Anker . . .”
He felt her struggle between wanting to own them and being afraid it made her owe him. He leaned over, took the combs from her hand, and slipped them into place beside her coiled braid. “You are a beautiful woman and deserve something beautiful.” He trailed his finger down the side of his face to her mouth. Slowly, giving her lots of chance to stop him, he lowered his head and kissed her. He pulled away quickly before she could take offense. Let them both think it was a friendly Christmas greeting.
She lowered her gaze. Her shoulders pulled up as she took a jerky breath. She touched the combs in her hair then slowly raised her face. “Thank you,” she murmured.
She reached for a parcel and handed it to him. “From me and Charlie.”
He lifted out a pair of tightly knit mittens that would protect his hands in cold weather. “These are great. Thank you.”
“They are nothing like what you gave me.”
“You are trying to decide which tips the scale either in your favor or against. You won’t take into account how much work you put into your gift when all I did was buy mine at the store.” His disappointment laced with anger. “Lena, stop measuring, stop keeping score.” His anger fled as quickly as it came and, smiling, he reached out to touch her face again. “I can’t think of anything I could appreciate more.” And even knowing he had no right, knowing he danced with crossing an invisible line in their relationship, he stole another swift kiss. Not wanting her to ruin the moment by protesting, he called Charlie. “Your mama has a present for you too.”
Charlie immediately left his animals and raced over. “More present?”
“Yup.” He handed Charlie the other parcel.
Charlie opened it and lifted out the stuffed dog. “Doggy.” Charlie shook it as if he expected it to bark.
Anker supplied the bark and Charlie chuckled. “I like doggy.” He tucked the toy under his arm and returned to the carved animals. He put the dog beside him and picked up each carved animal in turn and introduced it to his doggy.
Throughout the day, the dog was his constant companion.
He chattered to the toy. He involved it in his play.
Anker stood at Lena’s side as they watched Charlie play. “He’s found a readily available friend in your gift. See how your gifts bring joy to others.”
“He’s a child.”
Anker hugged Lena close, ignoring the slight resistance. “Men are only bigger boys. We like simple things, gifts of love, gifts that meet our basic needs.”
There was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her how simple his needs were— a family to share his home with, a woman who would accept his love.
But even though she relaxed against his shoulder, perhaps accepting that their gifts had equal value and his didn’t make her owe him in any way, she had never given any indication she had changed her mind about their agreed temporary marriage.
Chapter 14
The winter days passed with slow regularity that Anker welcomed. For the most part, they lived a life of routine—he doing the outside chores; she cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry. They shared evenings around the warm stove. Anker told her many stories about growing up in a large family. She offered little and when he prodded her, she said she had no stories. Her life had been mostly work and enduring. But occasionally, she remembered something like the spelling bee she had won when she had been allowed to attend school. There had been no prize apart from her sense of accomplishment.
February provided a short diversion when Charlie had his second birthday.
Upon hearing it was Charlie’s birthday, Anker immediately fashioned a crown from stiff paper and placed it on the boy’s head. “You are king for the day.”
Lena snorted. “Another Norwegian tradition?”
“Another Hansen tradition. Grandfar said every child should be so honored. As long as it’s reasonable, Charlie’s every wish is our command today.” He turned to the boy. “What do you want?”
“Play animals with me.”
Anker grinned at Lena.
She rolled her eyes. “Big surprise there. That’s what he wants every day. And every day you play with him.”
“I enjoy it.”
“So it seems.”
Her expression changed so swiftly he couldn’t be certain if the idea pleased her, before she turned inscrutable and practical. “Well, go play with him while I clean up the breakfast things.”
In the passing weeks, as spring approached, he often found her staring out the window, or taking Charlie and walking to the end of the lane where she would cross her arms and look across the prairie.
“What are you looking at?” he asked several times.
“What is there to look at?” she said, then retraced her steps to the house.
He ached to be able to reach her, but she seemed to have disappeared behind invisible walls.
One day in late March, when the wind was soft and warm and the snow had disappeared except on the north-facing slopes, she announced at the breakfast table, “Today is my birthday. I am twenty-one years old.”
“Then I must make you a crown.” He hurried to fashion one despite her protests and fit it to her head. “You are queen for the day. Your wish is my command.” He executed what he hoped passed as a royal bow. “What is your wish?”
She studied him, a cautious, hoping expression on her face. “Anything?”
“Anything. As long as it’s possible.”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know if it is.”
“Tell me and let me decide.”
She looked so sad and determined he squeezed her shoulder, silently promising he would give her anything she requested if he had the power to do so.
“I would like an hour or two alone at my farm.”
His heart sank like he’d weighted it with lead. He swallowed hard and did his best to hide his reaction even though the shock waves of disappointment trembled through him. Finally, he gathered his thoughts and nodded. “I think that’s possible. I need to go to town and pick up the mail. We’ll go by your place and leave you. I’ll take Charlie with me.”
Her face filled with excitement, and while dread twisted his insides, she scurried to get ready.
She hadn’t changed her mind about returning to the farm or ending their marriage. He’d allowed unfounded hope to build. Father God, I ask You to work in her life. Let her realize she can trust You. And provide strength for me to face the day she leaves.
* * *
Anker helped Lena down from the wagon.
“Thank you,” she said, promising herself she would reveal none of her excitement at being on her own land, nor any of the turmoil as she wondered how she would manage. She didn’t know if she meant managing the farm, or walking away from Anker’s care. She had to do both. It was the only way she knew how to keep her heart safe.
He flashed her a bright smile as if trying to convince them both this wasn’t painful for him. “I’ll see you later.” He flicked the reins and with a big wave, drove away.
Lena stepped back and waited while he drove down the road, Charlie perched proudly on his knee. She meant thanks for much more than the ride and the chance to be alone as she explored her farm. She meant his kindness, his love for Charlie, and the way he had honored his promise to her, but she couldn’t find words to say it. Besides, she feared they would be so inadequate they might offend him. Or worse, she’d end up asking if she could stay at his place. And she wouldn’t risk that. Her caution and fear had caused her to say very little to him in the past few weeks.
When he was far enough away she no longer worried he might read her confused emotions, she slowly turned full circle. It was the first time she’d been back since the fire. This was her place. Her very own place. She belonged here.
A wave of warm remembrances washed over her. Here she’d worked side by side with Johnson and here she’d borne their son. They’d shingled the barn and filled the loft with hay. They’d watched as Bossy delivered her first calf. Both Bossy and her calf now lived in Anker’s barn. Anker would keep last year’s calf in return for giving Lena, Charlie, and her stock a home for the winter, and she would bring Bossy back. The cow would freshen soon and the milk would help her feed Charlie.
Her memories turned bittersweet, and her chest felt weighted.
Johnson was gone. Her house was gone. Their dream was gone.
No. She corrected herself. The dream lived on. She still had the farm. And she still had Charlie. She could keep the farm and make a life for him here. Only now she would have to do it on her own.
She went to the rubble that had been her house. She’d expected nothing more than a pile of ashes, but the stove squatted amidst the debris. Perhaps she could polish it up and use it in her new home.
She hurried closer, eager to discover if anything of value remained, and stepped over what had been the threshold. The twisted, rusty frame of her bed stood as a silent reminder of a life now gone. She swallowed back tears and turned away.
Where her kitchen cupboard had once been there was only rubble, the objects unrecognizable except for the rusted Dutch oven lying on its side stuffed with straw and bits of fabric indicating it had been a winter home for mice.
She kicked the blackened mess, raising an acrid odor.
A bit of white china caught her eye and she bent to pick it up.
Her mind went to a different time. A different place.
It was shortly after they’d completed the house and barn. They had gone to town for supplies. Lena spotted this cup and saucer on a shelf—delicate white with a circle of yellow flowers on both the cup and saucer.
She’d picked it up and caressed it, so struck by its beauty she could barely breathe.
“What’s the matter?” Johnson had asked.
Her throat too thick to speak at first, she shook her head and continued to clutch the cup and saucer.
Johnson watched her, waiting.
Finally she was able to force the words out. “It’s just so beautiful.” Reluctantly, she set it back on the shelf.
It wasn’t unt
il they had returned home that Johnson handed her the cup and saucer. “You’ve earned it after all your hard work. And I bought myself a book for my reward.”
She’d taken it, uncertain why it tugged at her mind so much.
She poked through the ashes, damp with melting snow, hoping for more, but this fragment was all that remained of the beautiful cup and saucer she’d owned. She stroked the bit of china and wondered again why that particular cup and saucer had meant so much. Every time she looked at it she felt a burst of joy. She could almost feel someone—
She tucked the fragment in her pocket.
A memory hovered so close she could almost grasp it.
She waited, wanting to remember.
It came like a clap of thunder, and her eyes stung with tears. Her chest tightened.
She must have been four.
Her mother and father had been seated at the table having tea, laughing and talking together, when she stepped into the room. Her mother had looked up and said, “Come, love, and join us.”
And Lena had sat on a chair between them as her mother set before her a cup and saucer and poured her tea, diluting it with milk.
The cup and saucer had been white china with a ring of yellow flowers, like the one she’d found in the store.
Her mother had kissed her cheek and offered her a cookie.
Her father had called her his little princess.
Their love had surrounded her.
And then they were gone, her mother first and then her father, leaving her to face a lonely existence.
Tears clogged her nose and she took several deep breaths to stop the quivering that began deep inside.
She stared at the bright sky, promising herself she would never love again. It hurt too much. It wasn’t worth the risk. Even if the offer of love came with no strings attached, like the love Anker offered. Oh, he’d never said he loved her in so many words, but he showed it in his actions, his gentle, kind words, and his looks. She read the unspoken confession when he said they didn’t need to dissolve the marriage when spring came.
