by Amanda Boone
“I’m please to meet you, Miss Bengtson.” He took her hand, bent over as he lifted it, and pressed his lips against her dry, cracked hand.
His soft lips against her rough skin caused her to wonder how he could possibly want to do that. All the lye in the soaps she used had taken its toll on her skin to the point that even she didn’t like to touch it. Thankfully, his gentle kiss lasted only a moment before he released her and stood erect.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you,” Bridget said. “You live here with Elise, right?”
“Ja,” Stina replied, ready to get away from everybody, “and I should go clean up and change for dinner. I saw Karin headed this way with Jared and Emily, Elise. They should be here soon.”
And Stina escaped into her room. She was so embarrassed by her appearance she could scarcely bear being in everybody’s company. Coming home from work with Moya there was bad enough, but in front of company, she felt as though she was a street urchin breaking into the house.
Staring into the mirror, she shook her head. Her light blonde hair was coming from her chignon; her dress, although damp on the skirt, was covered with dirt from the men’s work clothes. She was more embarrassed than she’d ever been.
As she took off her dress to change her clothes, she thought about how nice Michael O’Riley seemed. He was quite attractive with that red wavy hair and those bright green eyes. In fact, she’d never seen such green eyes. And Michael was tall, shorter than Moya but taller than Lars.
Pulling the pins from her hair, she released her chignon and let her nearly waist-length hair cascade down her back. After putting on a clean dress, she picked up her brush and ran it through her hair until all of the snarls were out of it.
She washed her face off with the warm water Elise put in her room every night just before she got home. Had she ever told Elise how much she appreciated that? If not, she should.
After drying her face on the nearby towel, she studied herself in her mirror. At least, she looked presentable now. Turning to leave the room, she hesitated.
Michael O’Riley seemed like a very nice man, and he actually appeared to be a bit interested in her. If she could get him to court her, maybe Lars would want her, just like he had wanted Elise more once Moya had started courting her.
With a thought, she returned to her mirror and took her rouge from the dresser beneath it. She applied just a little bit of color to her cheeks and lips. Then her gaze fell on a larger jar on the dresser. Picking it up, she opened it. She hadn’t used this mixture for several weeks, but it might be time to begin using the concoction again. Glad that she still had a little left, she dipped her fingers in to the lotion and worked it into her hands. They started to feel better already.
Finally, she put the lid back on the jar and left the room. By now everyone had assembled in the sitting area. Almost the moment she joined them, Mike scrambled to his feet. Elise announced that they were just waiting for the biscuits to be done and dinner would be ready. Then Elise and Karin went to set the long table they had borrowed from Jared’s house.
“Here, Miss Benson,” Mike said extending his arm toward the Victorian chair he’d abandoned, “you take my chair.”
“Thank you,” she replied, sitting down before he sat on the arm of the chair, “but my last name is Bengtson.”
“I’m sorry. So is your real name Christina?”
“No, it’s Stina. I didn’t want to change it when I came here from Sweden. Why don’t you just call me that?”
“Thank you, I will. But now you must call me Mike.”
“I’ll be happy to, Mike. What brought you to Forestville?”
Mike explained that he wanted to open a newspaper office, that for many years it had been his dream to be a journalist, even though he had been a banker in New York. So he had decided to take the opportunity to join his sister Bridget on the journey to keep her safe and keep her company during the long trip.
“What brought you into the house looking like something the cat dragged in?” Mike asked cheerfully at the end of his explanation.
“I own and operate the washhouse,” she replied.
“I must say, you turned from a street urchin into a lovely, young lady in only a few minutes,” Mike praised.
“Dinner’s ready,” Elise called to everyone. “Come and get it.”
At the table, Mike held Stina’s chair and pushed it under her as she sat down. She was a bit embarrassed by his manners, especially considering the other men didn’t do the same. Bridget and Jared conversed quietly across the table from her, and Karin, who sat between Jared and Emily, watched with a loving smile as Emily chatted in Swedish with Moya at the end of the table. Elise sat at the opposite end of the table, and Mike sat down next to Stina.
Stina ate in silence until Karin, who still used some Swedish pronunciation, began a conversation with her. “Tell me, Stina. I heard you correct Mike on how to say your last name. Vy don’t you yust change to Benson like I did?”
“Because,” Stina said, struggling to control her irritation so Mike didn’t see it, “my name isn’t even Bengtson. It’s Klausdotter. I never wanted to change it. Papa made me.”
“It wasn’t Papa, Stina, and you know it. The immigration people said we had to do it.”
“Papa let them, Karin.”
“It doesn’t sound like you wanted to move to America,” Mike observed. “You must have loved it in Sweden.”
“I had very good friends there,” Stina replied. “I never wanted to leave, but our parents made us.”
“I was thrilled to come to America. I was sure my life would change for the better.”
“Did it?”
“It absolutely did,” Mike said. “I’ve earned enough money to do what I love, and I’m on my way to making it happen. Why don’t you tell me what you like about Sweden?”
By the time Mike left that night, Stina knew without a doubt that he was interested in her. They had chatted for two hours after dinner was done—until Stina insisted that she had to get some sleep so she would be able to work in the morning. Only then did Mike lightly kiss the back of her hand and say good night.
Chapter 2
The next morning, Stina recalled the previous evening. Mike had been the perfect gentleman, holding her chair, opening the door when they decided to talk on the porch, linking her arm in his as they took a walk for a while. He even left as soon as she said that it was probably time for her to go to bed.
Would she see him that day? She hoped so, but she couldn’t be sure. He knew where she worked, but he didn’t know where the washhouse was. Of course, he could easily find it, considering almost every man in town had his laundry done there.
She found herself hoping that he would seek her out and take her mind off her work for a while that day. He could talk to her while she hung up the laundry, or maybe he would offer to take some of the drudgery off her hands and scrub some of the filthy dungarees on the washboard. That would be one of the nicest things he could do for her.
“What are you thinking about this morning?” a man asked from nearby.
Stina looked over at the blond man falling into step beside her. “Good morning, Lars. How are you today?”
“I’m fine,” Lars replied, “but you seem like you’re in another city. Do you have something important on your mind?”
“Not really. I was just thinking about dinner last night. Elise’s friends got here from New York City, and we had them over so Jared and Bridget could get to know each other in a casual setting. Elise didn’t want them just thrown together in marriage. She wanted them to be comfortable.”
“Is that the bride she wrote to for Jared?”
“Ja. Elise’s plan seemed to work, too. They didn’t have any trouble talking together.”
“You didn’t seem to have any trouble talking last night, either,” he said accusingly.
Stina shot her startled glance to his face. His blue eyes were narrowed in irritation—or anger. She wasn’t sure which it was
. The expression on his face was one she’d never seen before, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to see it again.
Finally, she managed to force out a response. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the redhead you were walking with last night. I saw you two chatting away, looking at each other like you were star-crossed lovers.”
“Don’t be silly, Lars,” Stina replied. “That’s Bridget’s brother. I was just keeping him company while Bridget and Jared were getting to know each other.”
Stina had no idea why she’d told Lars that. She knew it was a lie, but she didn’t want him to know that she found Mike quite so charming. On second thought, maybe she did know why. If Lars thought that another man was pursuing her, maybe he would do the same, and she could win him over. If he thought he had competition, he might just ask to be her suitor, which is what she’d wanted ever since Elise had introduced her to him.
“You’d better be careful around him,” Lars warned. “I saw the look in his eyes. I think he wants to bed you. In fact, there’s not a doubt in my mind. If you gave him just a little bit of encouragement, he would do it.”
Stina sighed and shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous, Lars. Mike was a complete gentleman. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever met a man who has manners like his.”
“Well, you need to stay away from him.”
Unable to resist, she laughed. “Lars, you’re just jealous. Mike is nothing more than a new friend, and I have no intention of staying away from him if we happen to run into each other and want to chat.”
“You’d better,” he warned ominously as he strode away from her.
Was that a threat? Stina thought with an involuntary shiver. Or was it just a jealous man expressing that she was his? Either way, she didn’t like the tone in his voice, and she liked the look in his eyes even less.
Both concerned her, given what he had done to Moya. Would Lars hurt her? Surely not. Although, there was that time when she saw him come out of a dark alley after she got finished with her late one night. The next morning a prostitute had been found beaten into unconsciousness in that same alley. Had Lars done that? Would he really hurt a woman?
No, she couldn’t believe he would do such a thing. He’d never even indicated in Bishop Hill that he would. That had to have been a coincidence.
Taking the key to the washhouse from her pocket, Stina opened the door. She was mad that Lars had told her what she should do, and she would take her anger out on the dungarees she needed to wash that day.
***
Nearly two weeks passed before Stina saw Mike again, this time at the weddings of Elise to Moya and Bridget to Jared. They stood side by side, watching the ceremony in silence. On the other side of Stina, Karin struggled to keep Emily, who was thrilled to have a new mommy, under control. The child was so excited that she wanted to be right in the middle of everything.
Stina smiled at Emily. The dark-haired imp, as she was being then, had never had a mother. In fact, according to Karin, who worked for Jared, poor Emily’s mother had never even held her.
If she ever had children, Stina thought as the two couples exchanged their vows, she would dote on them. If she discovered she was dying during childbirth, she would demand to have the baby placed on her chest so she could feel it.
Shaking the notion from her head, she tried to focus on the ceremony. She shouldn’t be thinking about that, anyway. She wasn’t married, or even pregnant, thank goodness, after her time with Nels Osterberg in Bishop Hill.
What would Lars think if he knew that she’d been with Nels? Would he still be jealous of Mike? On second thought, Mike was such a gentleman that he would probably not want anything more to do with her. Of course, he had already backed away from her after that one evening. He’d probably already decided that she was too young for him. She absently wondered how old he was.
“By the power of God, I now pronounce you husbands and wives. You may kiss your brides.”
Suddenly back to reality, Stina watched as Moya swept Elise into his arms and gave her a passionate kiss. Jared, however, kissed Bridget on the lips quickly, without embracing her.
Stina thought that was odd, but she reasoned, it was an arranged marriage. Jared was probably reluctant to hug Bridget in public.
An arm draped around her shoulder, and Stina looked over to the hand handing over her left shoulder. She turned her gaze to Mike’s smiling face.
“I love a good wedding,” he said. “What about you?”
“I’m afraid my mind was wandering,” she admitted.
“I told Bridget that, after the ceremony, I would take them over to the newspaper office, which is in the process of being built. Would you like to join us?”
Stina couldn’t believe she was saying this, because she truly wanted to join them. “I’m afraid I can’t. I didn’t get my work done yesterday, and I have some clothes to finish ironing.”
“I understand,” he replied, removing his arm. “When will you be done? I could come by and walk you over to the office to show it to you later.”
“I would like that,” she said, “but I’m not sure when I’ll get done. Besides, you don’t even know where the washhouse is.”
“Of course, I do. I’ve watched you working several times, but you always seem so involved in what you’re doing that I haven’t wanted to bother you.”
Stunned, Stina stared up at him. He had been there? He had watched her? She’d had no idea because she always got deep into her thoughts while she worked.
“And if you’re interested,” Mike said, interrupting her thoughts, “we could have dinner at the hotel restaurant afterward.”
She gave him a quick smile then said, “You saw what I look like when I’m done working. I would be a mess to eat at a restaurant.”
“Ah, but I listened to you. You’re just ironing. You should look just fine.”
An elbow in her ribs caused Stina to turn toward her sister. Karin urged her on. “Go with him.”
“See?” Mike said, drawing Stina’s attention back to him. “Even Karin thinks you should agree.”
“All right,” Stina finally agreed. “I suppose it will take me about three hours to finish my work.”
“Very good. I’ll come to the washhouse in about three hours to get you.” Mike turned away from her and toward his sister. “Are you ready, Bridget Coleman?”
Stina watched without a word as Mike, Bridget and Jared left the church. As badly as Stina wanted to go with them, she did have work to finish from the previous week; she hadn’t just used it as an excuse. She hugged Elise and wished her and Moya the best in Swedish then headed over to the washhouse.
Chapter 3
“This is my office, as editor of the paper,” Mike enthused as he escorted Stina into the wall-less room. “Across the hall is the telegraph office. Moya will be leaving before too long to go learn how to work a telegraph machine.”
Taking her hand, he led her into the large, open room.
“See those boards laid out in a rectangle? Those show where the printing press will be. Someday I’m hoping to make enough money to buy a second one. That way Bridget can be setting two pages at a time. I’m really excited about how quickly it’s coming along.”
“I can tell,” Stina replied. “It’s not happening as fast as when the put up the washhouse, but the men knew how much quicker I could work if I had it. I even have a room in the back where I can hang clothes when it’s raining. They thought of everything—four washtubs, two for washing and two for rinsing; two stoves so I can always have water heated, and four irons so at least one is always ready. The only thing they didn’t think of were the washboards. They even had lots of lye soap and starch.”
“It sounds like you love what you do.”
“I wouldn’t say love, but I do like it a lot more than I thought I would when I came up with the idea.”
“I haven’t worked in the newspaper business before, but I’ve alway
s written,” Mike said. “I loved reporting what’s going on around me, even as a child. This is what I’ve always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it thanks to Frank Harris.”
“Frank Harris?” Stina repeated.
After what he’d tried to do to her, having the washhouse built and paying for everything, she was nervous for Mike. Frank Harris had wanted her to hand over a little over half her earnings for him to do all of that. When she’d balked at the notion, when she’d told him that she would rather go house to house than be beholden to someone, he’d backed out on the deal. The men in town, though, hadn’t hesitated to give her the building and its contents. They’d pooled their money and done the work in a week, and she kept all of the earnings.
She was curious as to how much Frank Harris was involved in the newspaper, but she couldn’t ask Mike about it. She didn’t know him well enough.
“Stina?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
“Ja,” she replied. “I was just thinking. Do you know how long it’s going to take to build your newspaper?”
“No. They’re only working on it when they can. I’m hoping for another couple of weeks to a month, but that’s because I’ll be doing some of the work myself. Now that the skeleton of the building is up, I can put up walls.”
“Skeleton?” Stina asked. “I don’t understand.”
Mike seemed taken aback. “You don’t know what a skeleton is? I’m sorry. You have so little of an accent that I barely notice it. A skeleton is the bones of the body. A skeleton of a building is the wood like you see here.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go have something to eat. I’m getting hungry. After that, I’ll walk you home.”
When she agreed, he took her hand and laid it on his forearm to escort her from the building. In that way, they walked to the hotel, where he opened the door for her and led her to the restaurant.
“Good evening, Mr. O’Riley,” the owner, Olaf Johnson, greeted as they entered the dining room. He nodded toward Stina. “Miss Bengtson.”
