“Shame you can’t just go up and sleep on through the night,” the older woman said. “You looked done in.”
“But better now?”
“True. There’s cold juice in the icebox.”
“Thanks, but later.” The sun slanted under the porch roof, making one of the chairs the perfect place to sit, back to the sun, and finger-fluff her long hair. She should just comb it out and wrap it in a bun but instead sat listening to the hammering and sawing from the buildings going up. A slight breeze played with her hair as she tipped her head back.
“Sorry. I came looking for Thorliff.”
The male voice made her jerk upright. “Oh, Mr. Jeffers, I . . . I don’t know where he is. Did you look in his office?” Her fingers wanted to fix her hair. This was mortifying. The heat of her cheeks nearly burned her fingertips. She should have known better than to sit outside like this, her hair down and uncombed. Ladies did not do such things. What must he think of her?
“I did, and he’s not there.”
“I think I am supposed to ride with him out to the farm.” Should I ask him to sit down? What to do?
“Maybe he already left.”
“Thelma’s in the kitchen. I’ll go ask.” Astrid rose, trying to act as if she left her hair down all the time. “Be right back.”
When she returned, she had twisted her hair into a rope and tucked it into a bun. “Thelma said he is already gone but to tell you that he plans to be in the office early tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at her and tipped his head slightly. “I liked it better down.” He turned and went down the steps, whistling a tune as he reached the street.
Astrid knew she should be indignant, but somehow all she could do was chuckle. She went upstairs, hung her towel up, and redid her hair into a snood before heading for the farm. The walk would do her good.
16
“Look who is here!”
“Grandma!” Inga darted across the room and threw her arms around her quickly kneeling grandmother. “Tante Astrid is taking a bath.” The way she said the last word made her opinion of bathing quite clear.
Ingeborg kissed the rosy cheek and got to her feet. “How are you, my dear?” She held out her arms for Elizabeth to join them. “I don’t see either of you enough.”
“I saw you yesterday.” Inga looked up at her mother, a slight frown between her eyes. “Wasn’t it?”
“Two days ago.”
“Oh. How come you didn’t come to my house this day, after the train?”
“I needed to welcome Grandpa home and help our guests feel comfortable at Tante Kaaren’s.” She gave Inga a slight shove. “Maybe you could find a couple of cookies in the pantry.”
“For just me or for us all?”
“Just you.”
Inga gave a happy little skip as she crossed to the pantry.
Ingeborg turned to Elizabeth. “I have missed her.”
“She has missed you. She said your eyes don’t laugh anymore.”
Ingeborg shook her head. “And here I tried to be the same as ever around her. How can one that young be not only so astute but also verbal enough to come up with that?” She blinked as if to remind herself where she was. “Please, sit down. Would you like coffee or something cold?”
“So she is right?” Elizabeth took the chair indicated. “You know, I think we would be more comfortable out on the porch. Unless there is something here that I can help you with.”
“No, supper is in the oven. The lettuce is all washed and the beans snapped, ready to cook. I made beet pickles. I know how Thorliff loves them.”
“Especially when made by his mor. What do you do that is different?”
“Some allspice and cloves – not much, just a hint.”
“I will tell Thelma that. So we can go outside?”
“Certainly. Inga, why don’t you put some on a plate for us as well?”
“Okay. One kind or two?”
“Some of each. With her everything must be precise. Sometimes I wonder how children get to be the way they are. And how they grow up.”
“What was Thorliff like as a little boy?”
Inga returned with a plate of cookies, one kind to each side as if a line were drawn down the middle. “Outside?”
Ingeborg fetched a chunk of ice from the icebox and chipped it into the glasses, then poured in water and a red syrup. “Leftover strawberries. I sugared them earlier.” Setting the glasses on a tray, she led the way to the back porch, where a late afternoon breeze had already risen.
“Thorliff worked so hard from the time his far died and hasn’t stopped. I never could have done all I did had he not taken care of the animals and Andrew. Although Kaaren did most of the inside work, I worked like a man. It was thanks to her that I finally climbed out of the pit of despair. Her prayers and her oh-so-gentle love. I have so much to be thankful for.”
“But now?”
“But now I have to throw this off, and through the grace of God my eyes will laugh again.” She leaned over and touched the tip of Inga’s nose with a gentle finger. “Thank you, little one, for the reminder. Grandma must not be sad any longer.”
“Tante Astrid is coming soon.”
“I know. And that alone makes me want to dance and sing.”
Inga rose from the footstool she had chosen to sit on. “I can dance and sing with you. Ma, you sing too.” She took Ingeborg’s hand. “Come dance.”
Ingeborg rose and took both of the little girl’s hands. Humming “When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again,” the two spun around and tipped from side to side. They danced forward and back, and Elizabeth tapped the time with her foot and sang along.
“Bravo!” called a voice from the gate.
“Pa!” Inga dashed down the steps and around to the gate. “Did you bring Tante Astrid?”
“No. I thought she came with you.” Thorliff swung his daughter up in his arms and whirled her around again.
“She took a bath and said she would come with you.” Inga wrinkled her nose on the bath word.
Thorliff carried her up the steps and set her down.
“How did you come?”
“I walked, since you had the buggy.”
“So what happened to Astrid, then?” Elizabeth rose. “I’ll go call her and let her know we are all here.”
“I have a feeling she fell fast asleep after her bath.” Ingeborg smiled at Inga. “But not in the bathtub.” She pinched Inga’s pink cheek gently. “Grandpa will be up from the barn shortly. Or do you want to go see him there?”
“He’s milking the cows?”
“Yes. Along with Onkel Andrew and the others.”
“You be careful and do not step in the manure.” Elizabeth sipped from her glass. “Maybe we should just let Astrid sleep.”
“She’ll be upset with us. You know she hates to miss out on anything.”
“Come on, Inga, you can ride on my shoulders and not get your pretty shoes dirty.”
“I could take them off.”
“I know.” Thorliff swung her up on his shoulders. “You want any cream or anything, Mor?”
“No. I have plenty.” The ringing telephone caught their attention. Two short rings.
“Your ring, Grandma.” Inga waved as she and her father bounced down the steps, making her giggle and grab his hair, sending his hat flying.
Ingeborg returned to the kitchen to answer the telephone.
“Hello?”
“Mor, is Thorliff there?”
“Yes, Astrid, he is. He is giving Inga a ride to the barn on his shoulders just now. Do you need him for something?”
“I had a long bath, and then I couldn’t find him. Thelma said he left but didn’t know where he went.”
“We thought you might have taken a nap.”
“No, not today. I’ll walk on out.”
“You want us to come get you with the buggy?”
“No, thank you. You want anything from town?”
“Just you. The m
en should be done with the chores by the time you get here.”
“Bye.”
Ingeborg hooked the earpiece on the prong, smiling as she did so. For a change she would have all her family around her again. Ellie and the children would arrive any minute. Sometimes the blessings got to be so much she could hardly keep from crying for joy. Using the hem of her apron, she dabbed her eyes and sniffed. First, sit down with Elizabeth and enjoy my drink and then get supper on the table. Tears of joy most assuredly felt different than tears of sadness. She much preferred the former.
She heard little feet running up the porch steps.
“Grandma, go to barn!” Inga had taught Carl to shout, and shout he did.
“Watch for Onkel Thorliff. He has Inga.” Or at least I hope he has her. She knew how quickly that little sprite could disappear but reminded herself that Thorliff was, after all, her father. And he should know.
“Sorry we are late.” Ellie carried May up the porch steps and sank down in a chair. “Andrew said he would build me a wagon, but the path is too rough for that, so maybe a wheelbarrow would be better. Ja, to carry May and Carl and the basket.”
“I told you not to bring anything.”
“I know, but we were out of cookies, and you know Andrew hates that. So I baked some and brought them along. And I made raspberryrhubarb jelly today. It’s the first time I tried this combination, and it is so lovely, I couldn’t resist bringing that too.”
Ingeborg took the jar of jelly and held it up to see the ruby red glow in the westering sun. “You are right. It is beautiful and will taste the best. I don’t think I’ve made jelly out of that combination either. I’m thinking this year I shall make mint jelly, using some of the apple juice before I can it. The green food coloring makes it look so pretty.”
“You are drying mint again for the medicine chest?”
“The first batch is hanging upstairs. Now that Astrid is staying at the surgery, I had Haakan hang me some bars from the ceiling in Astrid’s room to tie the herbs to. It is plenty warm up there to dry them quickly. I need to go foraging one day soon.”
“I want to learn more about the herbs and things you call simples,” Ellie said, dabbing at her forehead and neck with her apron. “I will never know how you managed those years after Roald died. Two children, the house, and the garden and I am done in.”
“There will be time for that. Right now you are as busy as can be. And that is as it should be.” Ingeborg reached for May and snuggled her in her arms. She kissed the little forehead, one more time grateful that the Lord had guided her hand the day the little one was choking. Before long the scar would be nearly gone.
At the sound of male laughter, she handed May back to her mother. “You two sit here and visit, and I’ll have supper on the table by the time they wash up.” She smiled at her two daughters-in-law.
“Grandma, the barn cat had kittens,” Inga said as she whirled onto the porch. “Four kittens. She brought them out to drink out of the flat pan. Did you see them?”
“Not yet. Do you want to wash your hands and help me in the kitchen?”
“Ja. I will.” She took her grandmother’s hand. “The mama cat caught them a mouse. It was dead, but they didn’t want it. They had milk on their whiskers.”
“Wash your hands and bring the salad from the icebox. The dressing is there too.”
While Inga did as she was asked, Ingeborg took the smoked venison roast from the oven and set it on a board to slice. Setting the pan back on the stove, she sprinkled flour in a bowl and added hot water to stir the two together into a smooth paste, then stirred that slowly into the meat juices. She drained the new potatoes and added the water to the gravy until it was just the right thickness.
“I’ll slice the meat. If you don’t mind, that is.” Standing at the kitchen counter, Elizabeth picked up the knife.
“Good. Inga, you shake this bottle of dressing, and we’ll pour it on the salad.” She turned to look at the table. “Oh, and the plate of pickles is in the icebox too.”
When female laughter joined the male chuckles outside, she knew Astrid had arrived. And all was ready. She took the dressing jar and poured it around the bowl, tossing the lettuce and other vegetables with a fork at the same time. If only the tomatoes were ready, it would be so pretty.
“Grandma, where’s the bread?” Inga picked up the salad bowl and set it on the table.
“Oh, I knew I forgot something. Bring the new loaf out of the box, and I’ll slice it.”
Haakan came through the door first, the joy of his return catching her again. On one hand it seemed he’d never been gone, and on the other he’d been gone forever.
“Something sure smells good.” He paused and sniffed. “There is nowhere like home at suppertime.”
“You didn’t have to go do the milking tonight, you know,” Andrew said, following behind him. “We’ve been doing just fine.”
“Without me, you mean?” Haakan gave his son a raised-eyebrow look.
“We’re glad to have you home, so don’t go putting words in my mouth.”
“Or thoughts in his head.” Thorliff ushered Astrid before him.
“I noticed you arrived when we were about done.”
“Of course. I’ve milked enough cows in my time. I’d rather build buildings and run a newspaper.”
Ingeborg held out her arms and hugged her daughter, the bread slicing knife still in one hand. “Astrid, you are indeed home. I was beginning to think I’d only dreamed about hugging you at the station.”
“She came to my house.” Inga carried a plate to put the bread on.
“She probably doesn’t even remember how to milk a cow.” Andrew unwrapped Carl’s arms from around his knee and set his son on the bench that Onkel Olaf had built to set on a kitchen chair so many years before. Sitting in the high chair, May banged a spoon on the tray.
“I think that is something one never forgets.” Astrid took the bread knife from her mother’s hand and started slicing the loaf, letting Inga arrange the slices on the plate.
Elizabeth set the platter of sliced meat on the table and fetched the bowl of potatoes while Ingeborg poured the gravy into a crockery pitcher. When they were all seated, Ingeborg at the end opposite her husband, Haakan bowed his head and waited for all to settle. “I Jesu navn, går vi til bords . . .” They all joined in, even Carl, who recited many of the Norwegian words correctly, especially the amen.
When Haakan finished the blessing, he sat for a moment, just looking around the table at those he loved. “This has to be the best way to welcome home travelers. I cannot begin to tell you how wonderful it is to see you all healthy and happy and working hard, living the lives God has given us, being together.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
Ingeborg blinked back the ready tears. One day he would tell her what they went through with helping the Indians, but his speech showed it affected him deeply. Love for this fine man welled up so strongly she couldn’t speak. Astrid glanced at her mother and then leaned forward to say, “Help yourselves to the food in front of you and pass it on,” an admonition that usually belonged to Ingeborg.
The conversation picked up as the bowls and platter went around the table. Ingeborg watched Haakan nod and answer a question from Carl. He had been gone too long, and harvest would most likely start in about a week. Why did the thought of that bother her less than his trek south had? She caught a stare from Inga. Oh my, her eyes must have been looking sad again. That thought widened her smile, which brought back an answering one from her perceptive little granddaughter, who then took a bite of her potatoes and gravy. Why had she not invited them all out when Haakan was gone? Because she’d let the pit draw her to the rim – that’s why. She mentally shook her head. That was far too dangerous a game to play. Lord God, thank you for saving me yet again.
As the bowls emptied and her family refused any more food, she rose to begin clearing away the dishes, but Elizabeth and Astrid both
shook their heads at her and took over. Sitting back down, ignoring the guilt that tried to ruin her treat, she turned to Thorliff.
“So catch me up on the latest news.”
“Didn’t you read the paper?”
“Of course, but that was last week, and I know something has to have happened since then.”
“Our immigrant workers arrive tomorrow. Mrs. Jeffers has agreed to teach English to them. They will meet at the school in the evenings unless Sophie decides we should use the dining room at the boardinghouse. Her concern is for Mrs. Jeffers walking across town by herself.”
Ingeborg’s eyebrows rose in spite of her. “Is she frail?”
“I don’t think so, but the move out here and losing her husband like she did have taken a toll. We’ll get their house up as soon as we can.”
“Uff da. Whoever would have dreamed we would have a housing shortage in Blessing? Sometimes I think God is delighting in pouring His blessings down upon us.”
“Leave it to you, Mor. That is exactly right,” Thorliff said. “We built bunk beds for several of the larger rooms at the boardinghouse. That should serve for a time. Joshua’s brother Aaron arrived.”
Ingeborg glanced up to see her daughter watching Thorliff. Had she made up her mind about the young man in question?
With the plates cleared away, Astrid set a stack of dessert plates on the table and began cutting the pies. “Both rhubarb?”
“Yes.”
“Rube pie. Grandma made rube pie.” Inga clapped her hands.
Thorliff shook his head, and Inga turned to look at him. “Don’t you like rube pie, Pa?”
“I love rhubarb pie.”
“That’s what I said.” When all the others laughed, she giggled too. “Grandma makes the best pies.”
“Me pie too.” Carl banged his spoon on the table until Andrew laid his hand over his son’s.
“You definitely are pie,” Ingeborg said with a grin.
A knock at the door caught their attention. “Come on in,” Haakan called. “You are just in time for dessert.”
Joshua Landsverk pushed open the screen door and entered the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt.”
A Heart for Home Page 15
