Gustie glanced at Dennis. He nodded and she began to read out loud:
“Pa Kaiser killed my babies. All my babies. Gertrude told me they were still born, all but Frederick, the first, which they let live but didn’t let me keep. They said it was best that we say he was hers. As if anything so fine could ever come from her. Anybody with eyes can see that he’s no more hers th —. He is mine! He has always known it. I wasn’t supposed to, but I told him and it has been our secret all these long years.
“They told me they were still born. I knew they lied so they could take my babes away from me. For Frederick’s sake, I pretended to believe them, knowing I’d given birth to living children. I gave birth to all my babies, and they took them from me and put them in the ice house to freeze to death. Then, he buried them there.
“All these years I thought they had been taken to Argus. It makes me laugh to think of it—how but for needing a bit of ice for my cream jug and these skinny old hands, I would never have found out. Iver delivered my cream early in the morning, you see, and I had run out of ice the day before. I went out to get a piece of ice to keep my cream until Pa got back to get me a good big chunk. I looked for a corner of a block of ice that I could knock off and carry myself. I chipped off pieces and put them in my bucket. My hands were cold. My ring slipped off. It fell down behind some ice. So, later on I got Frederick to help me. When he moved the blocks of ice, we felt around for the ring in the straw and we found wood...like a trap door in the earth, and I made him dig around it and pry it open. I thought it was something Gertrude was hoarding down there. Something of Mother’s. There were so many of Mother’s lovely things missing that should have been mine. That would have been just like her to hide them away like that where nobody could use them rather than let me have them. We opened it. I saw what he’d done. My babies, wrapped in the little quilts I’d made for each of them. Frederick wanted to go straight to Dennis, and I said wait till I talked to Pa, myself. I waited for him to come home—it was very late. I stopped him before he went into the house. I said I wanted to talk to him. Not in his house where Gertrude would hear, and not in my house, because Frederick was there. We went into the barn, and I told him I knew what he’d done.
He stood right there and told me to forget it, it was all so many years ago. That it wasn’t important any more. My babies weren’t important anymore! He said they didn’t suffer. Then he told me not to tell Gertrude! Not to tell Gertrude! She thought he had given them away to the foundling home in Argus or to immigrants passing through. I said, “Why didn’t you?” And he said it seemed easier this way. Easier! The pulley for the hay rack was hanging there between us. I pulled it back and swung it hard toward him. He could have moved, but he didn’t. I believe he didn’t think I would do anything, or that I wouldn’t be able to swing it hard enough, or that I’d miss. He probably felt that nothing could hurt him. Most men do, you know. But the pulley hit him square in the temple because he turned his head. He’d heard a sound, you see. It was Will in the stall behind him. So in a funny way, Will did kill him. If Will hadn’t been there to make that sound, Pa would have kept looking at me and seen the pulley coming so close, and he would have ducked it.
“Of course, I let the blame fall on Will. He was her favorite. I wanted her to know how it felt to lose a baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Lena. I’ve always been fond of you. I knew you could do better than a Kaiser. They are a bad bunch. I would have done you a favor, freeing you from them. You’d have found a decent husband.
“But everything has changed now that I know what Frederick has done. He did it for me. He is such a good boy, but this is not right, and I blame myself. It is not his fault. He did it for me. He has always thought of his mama. But it is more than I can bear. I have told Frederick to go away where no one will find him, and I have given him all my money—all the money Pa left me. No one will find him. I am going to my other children.”
At the bottom of the page, Gustie saw a scrawl, as if added in haste as an afterthought. She read,
“Lena, please take Feather. Otherwise Oscar will kill him.”
Lena had listened to the letter with her head down, her face buried in her hands. When Gustie was finished reading, Lena jumped out of her chair and ran outside and vomited. She rubbed her face clean with snow and came back in.
Dennis said, “Well, that lets old Mrs. Kaiser off the hook. I’ve got to tell her about this, I reckon.”
“Take the letter, go ahead,” urged Lena. “I don’t want it in this house.”
Will came in from the cold, grinning in anticipation of a cup of coffee and piece of pie, until he saw the faces on everybody.
“Will, I think you better come with me to see your mother.” Dennis said.
“You okay, Duchy?” Will asked. Lena’s face was ashen.
“Yes, Will. Go along. Ma will need you.”
Will looked confused. He’d never heard Lena solicitous of his mother before.
The sight of Gustie spending her grief and rage quietly upon herself in the bedroom had marked the beginning of Lena’s discomfort, which only increased as she watched Gustie care for Jordis: with what tenderness and familiarity she touched her—with what intimacy. It didn’t matter that Jordis had been unconscious for much of that time.
Lena could not understand her own perturbation. She could not put an outline to the vague shape-shifting thing that troubled her the way a dream that you can’t quite remember might haunt you after you were awake. But she was sure of one thing that filled her with a very describable fear. Lena simply didn’t know what to do.
Gustie found Lena with the Bible open on her lap, the tip of her finger in her mouth, staring out the living room window at the ice blue sky and the stretch of white beneath it.
Gustie moved a chair so she could sit in front of her. Lena smiled a sad smile.
“Lena, Jordis and I will be leaving here soon.”
Lena’s eyes grew big and round. “How?”
“I asked Emil just now when he brought the mail. Apparently not everybody is reduced to getting around by snowshoes. He told me that Iver has a team of oxen that’s pulling through most anything. He’s been using them for his cream deliveries and clearing some of the streets with them. Emil’s going to find him and ask him to take us home.”
Lena was relieved and disconcerted at the same time. “Are you sure it’s all right to move her?”
“If she’s bundled up warmly, the short trip to my house won’t hurt.”
“Well, then, I suppose...”
“We’ll see. Iver might come for us this afternoon. After he’s made all his town deliveries.”
“That soon?”
“It’s possible.”
Lena lowered her head.
Gustie recognized Lena’s discomfort. She knew its cause, even if Lena did not. She had just done all she could to bring it to an end. She observed her friend with a kind of detached compassion.
When Lena looked up, she said, “Gustie, I’m not an educated person like you. I don’t know much. I’ve never been anywhere farther away than Argus. I only know what I’ve been taught and what’s in here.” She rested her palm gently on the open Bible. “You’ve always been good to me in every way. Better than my own family. Sure better than Will’s. You and Jordis saved my life. I’ll never forget it. And I’ll never forget what you...both of you had to suffer because of it.” Lena stopped speaking. Her chin and lips began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears.
“No one blames you for anything,” Gustie reassured her quietly. “I don’t. Jordis doesn’t.”
Lena nodded gratefully and wiped the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I’m pregnant.”
Lena’s face showed no happiness at this long-awaited news. Gustie withheld her congratulations.
“I had a dream about the baby last night. It’s a girl. I’ve waited so long, but now I’m scared. I’m s
cared to bring a child into this family. The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children to the seventh generation. It says that right here.” She patted the open pages of the Bible again. “I know it’s true. Will carries that rotten old man’s curse. Frederick carried it and killed for it and died of it. Oscar and Walter...well they’re both nasty in their own way. You’ve seen it.”
“Break away from them.” Gustie leaned forward. “Found your own family. Be the first generation.”
“You think we can?”
“I think you must.”
Lena smiled weakly. “You’re a brick, Gustie.”
Gustie left her sitting at the window, staring at her open Bible. She didn’t envy her.
Jordis was propped up on pillows sipping hot broth and looking so well that were it not for the bandage still swathing her head, there would seem nothing wrong with her at all. She was getting stronger every day. The little gray cat was curled up by her side.
Gustie sat on the edge of the bed and grasped her hand, something she did unconsciously now whenever she was near enough. “I asked Emil...the postmaster, if he could scare us up some transportation out of here. You feel up to moving?”
Jordis replied thoughtfully, “This isn’t a bad bed. But I like yours better.” Her dark eyes shone. Gustie chuckled. “You’ll give Lena apoplexy. She’s pregnant, by the way.”
“I know.”
“How did you know? She just told me a few minutes ago.”
“She has a look about her. Winnie had it, too.”
Gustie, bundled up in coat, mittens, and wool scarf around her head, stepped outside to welcome Iver Iverson.
Through the crystal lens of winter air, the prairie—stretched beneath an ice-blue sky—dazzled. Everything that was not snow stood out clean and bright in sharp relief against the infinite white. Voices, too, rang sharper, clearer, and carried father in the cold. Sights and sounds were magnified and crackled in this frigid, cleansed, and otherwise quiet, world. The sight that greeted Gustie was something out of mythology. Four of the largest animals she had ever seen stood placidly, filling up the drive.
“Sally, Joe, Kate, and Daisy...the best team in the Dakotas!” Iver proudly announced, patting their buff-colored rumps as he moved around them. “Yup, they can get you through almost anything if you got the time. They go anywhere, but they don’t go fast.”
Behind the oxen was a contraption that Gustie would be hard pressed to describe in her journal. An enormous barge-like affair on runners, poles rising from its surface like masts on a ship. A kind of railing ran along one side. Behind the seat built up in front for the driver, a wall formed sort of a wagon bed at that end while the rest was open. Gustie laughed and brought her hands up to her face. “Iver, you’re only taking two people and some blankets. We could fit everything in Lena’s whole house on there!”
“It’s the only thing I got with runners on it. I thought while we’re at it, we’d load up your horses. Take ’em along and they don’t have to wade through this snow. That’s hard on a horse, you know.”
“Iver, you’re a...brick! Come in for some coffee and we’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“You think Lena’s got some pie in there?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Lena jumped into action when she saw Iver out the window. She was already packing up a box for Gustie and Jordis to take with them when Gustie passed through the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll need a few things to tide you over till you can get to O’Grady’s,” Lena said.
Will filled the back of the barge, for that is what Gustie called the thing in her mind, with straw, then covered the corner with blankets while Gustie dressed and wrapped Jordis up in several blankets till she complained. Gustie paid no attention.
Will came in and over Jordis’s further protests lifted her up and carried her out to the wagon and laid her gently on the blankets. He brought Biddie and Moon out of the barn, led them up the ramp and onto the barge floor and tied their reins to the poles.
Lena came outside and went to the side of the barge. From inside her coat she withdrew the cat and gave him to Jordis. “Here. He likes you, and he just reminds me of...things. You know.” Jordis smiled and tucked the cat under her blankets.
Gustie said, “Lena, thank you for everything. I’ll return these blankets and things to you as soon as I can.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Lena sniffed. “Don’t worry about it.” Then she said bruskly, “Now you take care of yourself. If you need anything, you let us know now.” She threatened Gustie with her finger, “We’ll be checking up on you.” She walked her around the wagon and in a low voice, Lena confided something to Gustie that made her laugh and hug Lena before she took her seat in the corner of the barge, Jordis’s head in her lap.
Iver, back in the driver’s seat, clucked loudly and commanded, “Go on now...whup whup! To the right a little, Sally. Pull on, girls! Come on, Joe, show ’em how!” The runners squeaked against the crisp snow, then with a mere whisper, slid down the drive.
Will stood waving and grinning, and Lena, tucked into the curve of his arm waved slightly, a worried—and hopeful—look on her face.
Gustie smiled in deep satisfaction remembering what Lena had said, cocking her head slightly toward Jordis. “She has nice features. She should curl her hair a little, and she’d be a pretty girl.” There were some things one could count on: that the sky would forever change, that, but for the passing of the seasons, the earth and Lena Kaiser would ever remain the same.
Planting Moon
In early May, Gustie received a letter postmarked Philadelphia, addressed in a familiar hand.
Dearest Augusta,
I have missed you, Daughter, and am relieved to know you are well and still stubborn. I feel quite sorry for Mr. Frye, coming up against you, but not so sorry as to flag in my duty as a father and a citizen.
I have put in a word here and there that may, I trust, be of value to you and your concerns. Mr. Frye will, no doubt, be seeking new employment come Spring.
You are right to ask me for what is yours, and I have set up an arrangement with Fitzimmons at the bank to forward your monthly stipend until my death, upon which occasion you shall inherit all. In the meantime, enclosed is a check to tide you over till the arrangements are in motion. We were not kind to you.
Your loving father.
Gustie burst into tears.
Epilogue
I Corinthians 13
THOUGH I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly;
but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
The Bible
King James Version
About Paulette Callen
Paulette Callen’s first novel Charity was published by Simon and Schuster in 1997. Since then, she has written three other novels: Command of Silence, Death Can Be Murder, and Fervent Charity (the sequel to Charity, to be published in fall 2013, by Ylva Publishing).
Her poems, articles, and short stories have appeared in small journals, magazines, and anthologies. The poem “See, Nadia!” was included in Beyond Lament, Poets of the World Bearing Witness to the Holocaust (Northwestern University Press) and was subsequently selected by artist Carol Rosen for inclusion in her Holocaust Series, an eight-book collection of photo/text collages housed in the Whitney Museum, the Simon Wiesenthal Center, and the University of Tel Aviv.
Paulette’s employment history includes the Communications Department of a large corporation, a movie theatre, a bank, the gift industry, the ASPCA, the insurance sector, as well as summer stock theatres and a year-long stint with a comedy improvisation company. For nearly four years, she served as a volunteer staff member for POWARS (Pet Owners with Aids Resource Services) in New York City.
After many years as a resident of Manhattan’s Upper West Side, she has returned, with her rescued blind Shih Tzu Lily, to her hometown in South Dakota.
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