After another spoonful she shook her head. “No more.” The motion made the room spin. She closed her eyes to stop the motion and fell asleep again before she could open them.
The woman’s voice woke her again some time later. When Augusta opened her eyes, she could tell by the shadows that much of the day had passed. She tried to lift her hand, but the effort made her shake, so she just smiled back at the brown-faced woman by the bed and kept opening her mouth whenever the spoon presented itself. Or rather, was presented by a hand that smoothed back her hair and even washed her face with a warm wet cloth.
“Mange takk.” The words came out raspy, like a door creaky from not being opened. She thought back to the lessons the man had been giving her in English. What was the right word for “mange takk”? The effort sent her back into oblivion.
Every time she awoke, either Kane or Morning Dove was right there spooning liquid into her and finally holding her up to drink from a cup. Amazing how such a thing one always took for granted, such a little thing as drinking from cup rather than spoon could be a victory. When Kane laid her back down, she missed the strength and warmth of his arm.
Such a strong and gentle man. Perhaps, she thought, drifting off to sleep again, someday when God brings me a husband, he could be like this man here. Wouldn’t that be nice?
When she awoke fully again, the bedroom was empty, but she could hear men talking in the other room. From the angle of the sun and the smells drifting in, she figured they were eating breakfast. She glanced around without moving her head much. Surely there was a chamber pot here somewhere. And she needed to use it. She carefully inched her way to the edge of the bed and looked over the side. Uh-huh, right there under the bed. But how would she manage standing and sitting when she didn’t think she could even sit up?
“Heavenly Father, please help me.”
As if sensitive to her slightest sound, the door opened and Morning Dove entered. “Good, you are awake. Today I think you eat.” She set the tray she carried on the stand by the bed.
Augusta pointed to the pot and signaled her frenzy.
“Ah, I help you.”
By the time she fell back in bed, Augusta felt as though her head might float up and bounce against the ceiling. She lay sweating and gasping and closed her eyes to bring the room to a halt.
“Mange takk.” At least I have a mind left, even if my body is failing me. Never had an expression of gratitude been more heartfelt.
“Good. Now eat.” Morning Dove propped her patient up with one arm and stuffed pillows behind her back with her other hand. Then she helped scoot Augusta up so she was sitting.
How long have I been sick? What happened to me? Did I really awake to find Kane in my bed? The questions chased through her mind like kittens after mice, not catching answers any better than the kittens caught their prey.
Morning Dove set the tray across her lap, and Augusta stared down at the food before her. Did she really have the strength to lift that spoon herself? The spoon shook so badly that when she got it to her mouth, it was empty.
“Here.” Morning Dove sat down in the chair and began feeding her.
“I am so sorry,” Augusta said between spoonfuls, “to cause you all this trouble for a visitor.” Morning Dove just nodded and kept on spooning. When I get to Blessing I am going to have to find some nice gift to send these people for being so good to me.
Her eyes drifted closed again after she drank the bitter tea that Morning Dove forced upon her. How will I ever get strong enough to continue the journey if I keep going back to sleep like this?
“How is she?” Kane met Morning Dove coming out of the sickroom.
“Much better. Eat, drink, now sleep again.”
“That’s best, I s’pose.” He stopped at the sound of coughing.
Morning Dove shook her head at his look of concern. “She much better. You go work.”
Kane gave the closed door another penetrating stare and turned to do as his housekeeper and friend said. “You’ll call me if . . .”
“She is better.” Morning Dove shook her head as if a child of hers didn’t know when to mind.
“You know, I been thinking. . . .”
Lone Pine looked up from the bridle he was mending and waited. Finally he shook his head. “So?”
“You know, when Augusta talks, some of her words sound a lot like the German Herr Gedicks and his old mother speak. You suppose Norwegians and Germans can talk together?”
“Like Mandan and Sioux?”
“Yeah, like that. At least maybe get the gist of things.” Kane knew he had a million things to do, but he couldn’t seem to keep his mind on anything but the puzzles surrounding the woman sleeping at the house. If only he could make things easier for her, surely she’d be happier here sooner. Not that he didn’t like teaching her English, but sometimes she looked so confused. As if she expected something of him, but he had no idea what.
He tried to look at his home through her eyes. All the buildings were good and solid and kept up. Even roses bloomed by the porch. The horses and cattle were in good health. Most likely she wasn’t used to such great distances between farms and ranches, but neighbors within an hour’s ride was a far cry from when he was a boy. If only he knew what she was used to. And her name—it just didn’t sound quite right from what he remembered of her letter. Now, if only he could find the letter. He must have lost it on the way back from Ipswich. That’s all he could figure.
“Think I’ll ride on over to Gedicks’ and ask him,” Kane said to Lone Pine.
“Best wait till she gets on her feet again. She might like company more then.”
“Ah, good point.” If restless had a name, it must be Kane this day.
Chapter 15
Blessing
September 7
“Ja, I have a room to let.” Bridget forced a smile.
“For two nights, then?” The man looked as if he’d been traveling without sleep for half of his young life.
“Ja. Henry here will show you up. The towels are on the end of your bed. A hot bath is extra, but he will bring up a pitcher of hot water. Supper is at six.” She pointed to the closed doors of the dining room. “In there.”
Henry Aarsgard raised one snowy eyebrow in question and shook his head just enough to let her know that he didn’t approve. When he returned to the parlor on the first floor, he shook his head again.
“I thought you were keeping that room for Augusta.”
“I am—was. But she’s not here, and that nice young man needed a room. Augusta can sleep in my bed if she comes before he leaves.” Bridget didn’t add “if she comes at all,” but the thought was implicit.
“You mustn’t give up the hope, you know.” His tone was gentle, like his spirit.
“I-I’m not. When my babies were baptized, I put them in the Lord’s hands and promised I would leave them there. All these years, with my sons crossing the ocean and dying in this land, with Gustaf leaving me behind when he went to meet his Lord, even with Katy dying, I keep the hope, the faith.” She stared at her hands crossed in her lap. “Maybe . . . maybe the faith is too weak and the hope dying. I do not think I can bear to lose one more of my children.”
Henry knelt on the braided rag rug in front of her rocker and took her hands in his. “Ah, my Bridget, you have borne so much. Let me help you. See, I have strong shoulders. Sharing a burden makes it lighter, like two oxen pulling instead of one.”
Bridget rubbed the backs of his thumbs with hers. “Henry, I am too old to think of marrying again. That is for young people.”
“No, no. Not at all. We who are older are also wiser, and we know how important it is to love and have someone love us in return.”
“But . . . but this is so soon. I have only known you since the summer.”
“No. I been eating at the general store since before the first timbers went up on this boardinghouse. You heard me say more than once that Blessing needed a boardinghouse. Remember? And I always liked yo
ur pies the best.”
Bridget reached out with one finger and traced the line from eye to chin on his seamed face. So different from her austere Gustaf, who had lost the gift of laughter when his sons left home. But before, when he was young, even though he tried to act stern, his children knew that he could be won over with merry laughter and loving patience. So did she. And since then, she’d had no one to fuss over like that. True, her grandchildren thought her the best, and they were the real reason she had come to this country, but still that was far different than having a man in her life, in her bed again. Did she really want to take this step?
Henry shifted and his knee creaked. “Ach, this getting old makes the joints complain an unhappy tune.”
“Then get on up and sit on that chair.” Bridget pointed to a chair beside her. When he sat down, she looked at him again, this time her eyes and chin resolute. “I tell you this. I will not say yes, and I will not say no. Not until I have my Augusta beside me.”
“But . . .”
“No. That is the way it must be.” She leveraged herself to her feet with her hands on the arms of the rocking chair. “Now, I better get in there and help Goodie with the supper, or we will all go hungry.”
Henry sighed and got to his feet too. “I think I smell chickens baking.”
“You should. You butchered them this morning. I should ask Kaaren to bring in a couple of layers if she has any extra. My hens are barely keeping up with the eggs we need.”
“Maybe you should just have her bring eggs.”
“Ja, but then Lemuel won’t have enough to do. He needs to keep busy, that boy, but Sam says he can use him at the smithy too. I tried to talk him into going to school, but his eyes rolled white then. I think when his ma comes back, things will be different.”
“She has the two youngest ones with her, right?” Henry had been off on his job as a conductor on the railroad when Sam brought his family to Blessing, and immediately his wife and daughter, Lily Mae, left to run the cook shack for Lars and Haakan’s threshing crew. They pulled the huge steam engine and separator from area to area, threshing grain for the farmers in return for either money or a portion of the grain in payment. The farther they were away from home, the more they appreciated getting cash instead of kind.
“Um-hum, but the two little ones are his brother’s children.”Bridget pushed open the door to the kitchen, her mind now on fixing supper. How many would they feed tonight? “Ilse, bring in eggs and buttermilk from the well house, would you, please? I think we need eggekake for dessert. Lemuel, start peeling the potatoes. Goodie, did you use all that dried bread for the stuffing? I was thinking we could use some for bread pudding.”
Seeing that Bridget was back in action, Henry headed for the woodpile. He could tell the box was nearly empty. That rascal Lemuel was a good worker if someone kept their eye on him. But otherwise he tended to slack.
In exchange for room and board the few days he was in town, Henry helped out around the boardinghouse, making sure the wood was chopped and stacked, the house made ready for winter, and fixing anything that had broken while he was gone.
His main goal was to marry Bridget, and everyone in town knew it. The men made jokes about how long she would hold out, and the women teased her about her beau until her grandmother’s cheeks blushed like those of a young girl in her first courting. If he’d had his way, they’d have been married during the summer, but Bridget kept shaking her head. At least now she’d made a commitment to make a decision.
But when he brought the evening telegram to her just before dark, he knew that decision wouldn’t be soon. Hjelmer had still to find anyone who could remember seeing his sister.
Bridget listened as he read the few brief words. Had Hjelmer written in Norwegian, she’d have read them herself, but while she spoke fairly good English, she hadn’t learned to read it yet.
“Uff da.” She sighed and shook her head. “Where can that girl have gone to? My Augusta would never have just run off without telling us.”
“I think I will request a transfer to the Minneapolis station for a time. That way I could maybe ask questions of people that Hjelmer might not know of. Conductors get moved around all the time, you know. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right one yet.”
Bridget picked up her knitting again. “Where would you stay?”
“On the trains. Just not take a day off like I do now. Wonder if Hjelmer is planning to come home sometime soon. We could talk more.” Henry had been on a trip west when the news came about the missing daughter and had returned only after Hjelmer had already set out.
“I don’t know.” Bridget shook her head. “I just don’t know.” She turned back from the fear that lurked like a hungry wolf at the edges of her mind. What if Augusta were never found? “Do you think you could really help look for her?”
“I will go after my shift tomorrow. I been needing to pay my daughter a visit too. Get several birds with one stone this way.” He went to stand in front of the screen door. The day had been cloudy, and now a chill wind whistled of coming fall. “Ja, I will do what I can.”
“Mange takk.” But as she watched him rocking back and forth in the doorway, Bridget realized she didn’t really like the idea of him being gone for who knew how long.
Uff da. Crazy old woman. You’re going to have to make up your mind.
Chapter 16
Blessing
September 8
“All right, let’s form the letter R.” Kaaren held her fingers in the correct position.
Beside her, Pastor Solberg did the same, and then they walked around the schoolroom, helping childish hands do the same.
“No, this way.” Four-year-old Sophie instructed Ellie, who was having difficulty getting her fingers to cooperate.
In the front of the room, Kaaren nodded and smiled. “All right, let’s go back to the beginning, and we’ll go through all the letters. A . . . B . . .” As she formed the letters, so did the students. “Now, remember, if you get stuck, ask for help.”
“I wish I could learn this as fast as they do,” Pastor Solberg said in an undertone.
Kaaren smiled and kept on signing. She added S and T and reviewed them all again. Fingers flew as the signs were made.
“Now, everyone sign your own name.”
While several hesitated, with help they all managed.
“Now, watch and see if you can understand what I am saying.” Kaaren signed good morning, rejoicing inside at the concentration on the faces before her.
“Good morning,” Anji Baard called out, so excited she about leaped out of her seat.
“Please raise your hand first.” The gentle reproof from Pastor Solberg made Anji’s cheeks flame.
“Sorry.”
“Teacher?” Toby Valders raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“Can you make a V again?”
Kaaren showed him the finger position, and he copied her, a grin splitting his face when he spelled his name.
“It is exciting to understand, isn’t it?” Kaaren signed good morning again, slower this time and very precisely. “Now, let’s do this together. G-o-o-d m-o-r-n-i-n-g. Again. Very good.”
Clara Erickson raised her hand. “Can you sign in Norwegian too?”
Kaaren thought a moment. “I’m sure we can, but we would need new signs for the Norwegian letters that don’t occur in English, like the O with a slash through it.” She turned to Pastor Solberg and raised an eyebrow. “Good question, eh?”
“Well, these signs were made up by a person, so why can’t we make up our own?”
“Clara, let me think on that.”
Thorliff raised his hand. “Why not make an O with a finger over it, like this?” He demonstrated.
“Why not?”
“Your big brother sure is smart,” Deborah said, leaning over to Andrew on the bench across the aisle.
“I know,” Andrew whispered back.
Kaaren heard them both. She smiled at them and then at Thorlif
f, who was concentrating on forming a word using the new symbol. He’d gone ahead of the class in learning the signing by borrowing Kaaren’s book. He always had his lessons done far ahead of the others.
After class, Pastor Solberg finished setting his desk in order while Kaaren waited for the children who were riding home with her to gather their things. “You know, learning signing has been really good for Thorliff. Trying to keep ahead of him takes more than I’ve got at times. He’s reading Latin now, and the other day he asked me if I would teach him Greek.”
“And you said?” Kaaren’s eyes twinkled.
“I said, ‘Here’s the book. Teaching you will be good review for me.’ ” Solberg shook his head. “So now he can speak Norwegian, English, Latin, and signing. Oh, and I gave him a book in German one day, and he’d figured out half the story because of his Norwegian.”
“Has he started on this year’s Christmas program yet?”
“I think so.” He ushered her ahead of him out the door. “I wish my advanced mathematics were stronger so I could be more help to him there. But he seems to pick things up well enough with the book. You know, we are going to have to either have a high school here soon or send the older ones off to board in Grafton.”
“I hate to see them leave so young. I remember how hard it was for Penny when she went to Fargo for her senior year, working at the hotel and all. If you had another teacher to handle the little ones, could you teach the higher classes?”
They stood at the corner of the soddy and watched the game of tag going on. Thorliff had the horse hitched to the wagon, waiting for his aunt Kaaren.
“You see how crowded the room is now, and the bigger boys are out helping with harvest. I know Joseph says his boys are done schooling, but Agnes insists they should go on.”
Kaaren took in a deep breath of the cool air. Clouds blocking the sun and a brisk breeze carried an autumn chill, reminding them that summer was on the wane. “And if I do this school for the deaf the way it looks like I should, that might add more children to the school.”
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