“I made him bring me,” Svea declared saucily. “And I think you know why.”
“I have no clue.” Rurik shook his head. “The last thing I remember from you were the words, ‘I hope to never see you again.’”
Rurik didn’t wait to see Svea’s response but checked his watch instead. “I need to get back to work. I’m sorry that you two traveled here for nothing. Since it seems my letter unintentionally enticed you both to come, I’ll help pay your passage back home.”
“We’re not leaving,” Nils said with a stubbornness that surprised Rurik.
He waited for Nils to continue. When the man said nothing, Rurik’s irritation could no longer be held in check. “Do as you like, but this is not my problem,” he said as firmly as he could without hollering at them. “I’ve tried to explain the situation, and I’ve offered to help you get home. If you choose to stay and waste your time and money, I am not responsible.”
“Father won’t have me back,” Nils mumbled. “We’ve had our differences, and there’s no going back.”
Rurik eyed his friend for a moment. He wondered what on earth had happened to cause such an irreversible rift between father and son.
Nils turned back to the window. “I have no choice but to stay.”
Rurik didn’t know what to say. Nils was his friend, and he hated to complicate the man’s problems. He supposed he could try to find something for Nils to do. Maybe he could help with the ice harvest. There were numerous people in the area who were busy with that task. Maybe a good word from Carl would allow Nils to sign on with one of the harvesters—maybe Mr. Krause?
“I’ll speak to Carl,” Rurik finally said. “Maybe he’ll have some ideas or suggestions. Nevertheless, you need to send Svea back, and she can hardly travel alone. Why don’t you escort her home and then return?” Rurik hoped that maybe by the time they got to Kansas, their father would have reconsidered whatever issue had caused the separation between him and Nils. Maybe Mr. Olsson would be so relieved to have them home safe and sound that he would welcome Nils back with open arms. And if not, it would give Rurik a week or two to look into employment opportunities for his friend.
“I cannot go home either,” Svea said. “You cannot take advantage of me as you have, and then just dismiss me.”
“Take advantage of you? I’ve done nothing, Svea. You were the one to end our engagement. But it was the right decision,” Rurik said. “Honestly, Svea, we’ve been over all this. There is no reason for you to chase after me now. Find a good man who will court you as I cannot. A man who will love you as you deserve.”
Svea stepped closer and lowered her voice. “You know full well why I cannot do that.”
Rurik looked to Nils and shook his head. Turning back to Svea, he saw tears forming in her eyes. He was astounded. She seemed genuinely distraught. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he finally said.
“It cannot be a secret any longer,” Svea said, looking to Nils. “My brother knows all about it, and in a very short time, so shall everyone else. All will know, and you will have no choice but to do right by me.”
“What in the world are you talking about, Svea?” But his voice sounded distant in his own ears.
She lifted her chin and fixed him with steely blue eyes. “I’m going to have a baby. Your baby.”
The words whirled through Rurik’s head all during the afternoon and into the evening. He knew with absolute certainty they weren’t true. He’d never been intimate with Svea Olsson or any woman. But that Svea was in such a predicament, and she’d told her brother that Rurik was responsible, was more than he could fathom. Had something happened since he’d left home? But why was she laying the blame at his feet? Was the true father not willing to accept the child as his? On and on his thoughts went as he tried to focus on the work at hand.
As Rurik tightened a clamp to glue two pieces of oak in place, he felt the enormous gravity of the situation. Svea was pregnant.
Nils had jumped right in after her declaration, saying that the entire community of Lindsborg knew the couple to be intended for marriage. Such things often happened, Nils stated, and it was no use worrying about how it came about, but rather to make the situation right. He’d not even listened to Rurik’s assurances that he’d never laid a hand upon Svea in such a manner—but then, Svea and Nils were very close. They were the youngest siblings in the Olsson family, and when Nils had taken a fall from a horse some years earlier, it was Svea’s faithful tending that brought him through. Rurik had never known a brother and sister to be closer. But Nils was also Rurik’s friend and knew his character. Why did he doubt Rurik was telling the truth?
God, you know that I never touched her, he prayed. Why is this happening? What must I do?
“I thought I might find you here,” Carl said, joining his nephew in the otherwise empty workshop. “Why are you working so late?”
“I have a lot on my mind,” Rurik replied, straightening with a sigh.
“Ja, with your friends arriving here unannounced, I can imagine.” He smiled. “If you need to take some time off for them, I can spare you a day or so.”
“No,” Rurik said. “It isn’t that at all. Nils took more from my letter than I intended. He came with the expectation of getting a job running your office.”
“That I can understand, but what of his sister? She acts as though you two are still betrothed.”
Rurik shrugged and put aside his tools. “She says now she would like it to be that way. But I told her I had no intention of reinstating the engagement. I’m not of a mind to marry her. I’m more convinced than ever that we are not meant to be together, and I told her so.”
“I’m sorry, son. That couldn’t have been easy.”
“I just don’t understand why she would want to marry a man she knows doesn’t love her.” Though as Rurik remembered her condition, he realized she was probably scared out of her wits. No doubt someone had dallied with her, and she had yielded her innocence. Perhaps Rurik had been partly to blame, since he was the one to leave and upset her so.
He shook his head. Had his rejection sent her into the arms of a less honorable man? Rurik thought about telling his uncle about her strange declaration, but he didn’t get the chance.
Carl was leaning hard against the sideboard Rurik was working on, his face pale. “I think I ate too much tonight.” He put his hand to his stomach and then to his chest. “I should probably lie down.”
“Are you all right?” Rurik asked, hurrying to put an arm around his uncle’s waist. “Is it your heart?”
“I think so, but it’s nothing new,” Carl admitted. “I’ll rest and be fine. Just help me to the house.”
Rurik all but carried the man from the workshop. “I’ll get you tucked in and go for the doctor.”
“No. Better to not waste his time. There’s nothing he can do,” Carl said, though he sounded as if he was in a great deal of pain.
Rurik wondered if his uncle’s condition was a lot worse than he’d let on. Perhaps Rurik would speak with the doctor himself, see what the man had to say. If Carl wasn’t going to be forthcoming, maybe the doctor would level with him.
Rurik helped his uncle back to the house and then to bed. He pulled the older man’s boots from his feet. “Would you like me to help you undress?”
“No . . . I’ll just rest here for a . . . a few minutes, then tend to it myself. . . . Sorry to worry you,” Carl said, smiling in apology but sounding rather breathless. “No worse than it’s been before. Don’t fret.”
Kneeling by the bed, Rurik shook his head. “I want to help you in any way I can. Just tell me what is to be done.”
Carl patted his nephew’s hand. “You’ve already done it by being here. I’m sorry to be a burden.”
“You aren’t,” Rurik argued. “You’re family, and . . .” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “My partner.”
Smiling, his uncle closed his eyes. “It’s good to hear you say so, Rurik. I already feel much b
etter. Tomorrow we’ll go see the lawyers, draw up the papers, and then I’ll be fit as a fiddle. You’ll see.”
Rurik nodded, even though his uncle couldn’t see him. He’d just committed himself to remain in Waseca. Oddly enough, Rurik’s next thought was of Merrill Krause. Would she be pleased to hear that he was going to stay? Of course, after she’d witnessed Svea declaring them to be engaged, Rurik knew he was probably the last person on Miss Krause’s mind.
Getting to his feet, Rurik determined he would let her know as soon as possible that Svea was mistaken in her comments. He would explain to Merrill how they had been betrothed by their parents when they were just children, that Svea had ended the engagement before he’d come to Waseca. He’d tell Miss Krause that he had been glad to comply with the girl’s edict because he didn’t love Svea and felt certain they weren’t to be together.
“But how do I explain the rest?” he wondered aloud.
Chapter 11
“You seem to be in a troubled mood, daughter.”
Merrill continued clearing dishes from the table. “I’m just busy, I suppose.”
“How are the foals?” her father asked. “I didn’t have time to check in on them.”
“They’re all doing well. The cold doesn’t seem to be bothering them too much. I put out extra straw and hay.” She picked up a nearly empty platter of chicken and headed for the kitchen. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to explain to her father why she was distraught. How could she tell him that she had feelings for a man who was all but married?
She hurried back to the table and reached for the butter dish, but her father stopped her with his strong hand gripping hers. Merrill looked to her father for explanation.
He smiled and let go. “Sit with me awhile.”
Merrill did as he asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask her to share what was on her mind.
“You know, a young woman like you should be receiving suitors,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his pipe and tipping back on the chair legs. “But you are always here attending to me and your brothers.”
She tried to smile. “As I am called to do.”
“God would have you marry and make a family of your own,” her father said, pulling a bag of tobacco from another pocket.
Merrill had never liked the smell of pipe smoke in the house, but it was her father’s home and his right. She would never have thought to dishonor him by suggesting otherwise.
He tamped down tobacco into the pipe and continued. “I’ve long thought a good man would step forward, but maybe some of the fellas around here worry about what your brothers will think.” He gave a chuckle. “I can’t say that I haven’t been glad for their help when you were younger, but now I think I will speak with them.”
Merrill quickly shook her head. “Father, I haven’t the time for beaus and courtship. It’s my job to take care of you and the household. Goodness, with the ice harvest on now, there’s scarcely time to get clothes mended, much less washed and ironed. Come spring things will settle down, and then we can see about beaus and such.” She was trying to make light of the matter, knowing her father obviously had some concerns.
But he didn’t seem to hear her, however. “I don’t want you helping with the ice anymore, Merrill. I know you have a good hand with the horses. They obey you better than they do anyone, but they will work for me and the boys just as well. The work is too hard for a young lady, and I’ve been wrong to have you out there.”
She couldn’t imagine what had caused her father to say such a thing. “Did Granny Lassiter give you a lecture like she gives me all the time?”
“No, but she would be within her rights if she did,” he said, lighting a match and putting it to the pipe bowl. After a couple of puffs, her father filled the air with a heady aroma. “Your mother would not be pleased with the way things have turned out. She would have wanted you to find a mate. I want that for you as well, Merrill Jean. It’s only right.”
Merrill couldn’t wait for the conversation to move in another direction, so she chose that moment to bring up painting the furniture for the Jorgensons. “Well, I’m not opposed to courting, as you know. However, there is something else I wished to discuss with you.”
Her father lowered the pipe and nodded. “Go ahead. You’ll never have a better time than now, with your brothers all out of the house at their chores.”
She smiled. “Well, you know that I painted that pie safe, and Mr. Jorgenson was quite pleased with it. He has asked me to consider painting some more. He has even suggested that he would set up a little workshop for me there in Waseca. He’d have me come only when there were a dozen or so pie safes ready to paint, so it wouldn’t be every day.”
Her father nodded. “Sounds interesting. Go on.”
“Well, Mr. Jorgenson and his nephew feel they can sell quite a few with the illustrations added to them. I would be paid, and with that money I could hire a woman to come in and help with the house and mending.”
“I’ve been thinking for a long time now that we should hire someone to help you,” her father said. “You work much too hard.”
“I’m not complaining,” she said with a smile. “But, Father, I would very much like to try my hand at painting the furniture. I think it could be quite nice to have a little of my own money—it also makes me feel closer to Mama.”
“So that’s why you’ve been troubled this evening?”
“Well, I wasn’t really troubled about telling you. It was more that I had a great deal on my mind.” She hoped that would satisfy him.
“I think it sounds like a good idea,” her father declared, to her relief. “Do you know someone we can hire to help around here?”
“Granny suggested a couple of names a few weeks back. You know she’s always after me to get more help,” Merrill said, trying her best to sound lighthearted. “I don’t know why she frets so. I suppose it’s because she can’t keep a good eye on me. You know she feels it’s her job, in spite of the fact that she’s Corabeth’s grandmother, not mine.”
“She loves you just the same,” her father replied. “She always loved your mother, too. I’m pretty sure she promised your mother to look out for you.”
Merrill nodded and got to her feet. “I know she did. She’s told me that several times. Even so, she can’t expect me to be the same as Corabeth. I’m not like her. She’s grown up in town with few responsibilities, and I’ve grown up on a farm with many. I’ve a much stronger constitution than Corabeth.”
She began gathering the dishes once again. Merrill couldn’t help but notice her father’s frown. “However,” she hurried to add, “since Corabeth is sweet on Zadoc, it would probably do her well to toughen up a bit. Zadoc might well surprise us all and ask to court her one day. She’ll need to be firm in order to keep that one in line.”
Her father’s chuckle signaled he’d let go of his worries. “Ja, and isn’t that the truth of it.”
Sunday after church service, Merrill hurried to find Granny and ask her again for the names of women she thought might be in need of work. Making her way toward the front of the church where Granny and Grandpa Lassiter were busy talking to the pastor and his wife, Merrill stopped in surprise when someone took hold of her arm.
Turning, she found Nils Olsson. He quickly dropped his hold. “I’m sorry for my boldness, but I called to you, and you didn’t hear.”
Merrill smiled. “I apologize—Mr. Olsson, isn’t it? I’m afraid I was a bit focused on finding my friend.”
“Not a problem. I simply wanted to greet you. I regret we had very little time to talk the other day at the Jorgensons’.”
Merrill wasn’t sure why he should regret anything, but there was no denying the man seemed quite serious. “It was a very busy day.”
“Yes. For us, as well. You see, we had just arrived by train. The travel from Kansas was quite exhausting, but my sister insisted on seeing her Rurik as soon as possible, so I had no choice but to find him for her. Svea can be most insi
stent at times.”
Not sure what to say, Merrill only nodded and looked away for a moment to see if Granny Lassiter was still engaged. She was. There was no reason to excuse herself just yet, so Merrill did her best to think of some small talk. “So you are from Kansas.”
“Yes. Have you been there?”
“No,” Merrill replied. “I’ve never been out of Minnesota.”
“And what do you do here?”
“My father raises Belgian draft horses and uses them for freighting, logging, and the ice harvest. I’ve been a part of that, as well.”
“Working with the horses?”
“Yes. I have to say they are a favorite of mine.”
“They are quite . . . tall.” He grinned. “As are you, if you don’t mind my saying so. I find it . . . well, refreshing.”
Merrill met his gaze. They were nearly the same height. “Refreshing? Really?”
He laughed. “Well, I suppose that does sound rather silly. I prefer meeting a person eye to eye, even a young lady—but especially a beautiful young lady.”
She wasn’t used to men flirting with her, and it left Merrill feeling like she’d tried on a dress two sizes too small.
Nils seemed to understand her discomfort and immediately apologized. “I suppose that was again rather bold of me. You no doubt have many suitors vying for your attention.”
Again, she wasn’t at all sure what to say, so Merrill hurried to change the subject. “What did you do in Kansas . . . for a living?”
He frowned. “My family runs a large dairy.”
“Oh, that’s very nice. You might find it interesting to learn that we have a new Waseca Creamery. There are a good many dairymen in the area, and everyone believes it will be beneficial to the town.”
“I’m afraid my interests have never lingered long on my father’s passions. I’m more of a book man.”
“A book man?”
Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 01] Page 10
