Lauraine Snelling - [Red River of the North 02]

by A New Day Rising

  She nodded.

  “Hey, I did as you asked,” Lars said to Haakan when they were ready to leave.

  “And?”

  “Pastor will be downright happy to marry up the two of you a week from Saturday.”

  Ingeborg felt her stomach bounce somewhere down about her knees. Nine days till the wedding.

  “Lars and I have a gift for you, but you have to agree to it in advance.” Kaaren smoothed the papers in front of her.

  Lars nodded at the look Haakan gave him. They all focused on Ingeborg.

  “We want you and Haakan to take a wedding trip. Now I know it won’t be long and far, but we will keep the boys, and between Lars and Hjelmer, the fieldwork will continue.” When Ingeborg tried to say something, Kaaren held up her hand. “Now just quit shaking your head, Inge. You are going on a wedding trip, and that’s final.”

  “You make a mighty forceful schoolmarm when you talk like that.” Ingeborg took in and released a deep breath. “I take it we all agree on where we will be going?” They all nodded.

  “Well, if we don’t come back with more machinery and livestock, it won’t be for not trying. Grand Forks, here we come!”

  But as the days passed, Ingeborg developed what Kaaren called the pre-wedding jitters or a near terminal case of cold feet. She came up with a thousand reasons why they should wait, or not get married at all. Sometimes she couldn’t figure out which side she argued on. Instead of smiling and laughing like she had been, she wore a frown that sent even Paws scurrying. She attacked the soddy like a general on a mission. Death to dirt. Unless, of course, it was on the walls or what fell sometimes from the ceiling. Outside, it was death to weeds, and all in the garden fell before the onslaught of her hoe.

  When Haakan tried to reassure her, she slumped against his chest, then straightened her spine and shoved upright. “I know, I will be fine when . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “When what?”

  When she rested her weary head in her hands, Haakan kissed the nape of her neck and held her close. “Not to worry, my dear. As you’ve said, the waiting is always worse than the doing.”

  “Or the not doing.”

  On Sunday, church was held at one of the neighbor’s, and Haakan announced that everyone was invited to the wedding the next Saturday in St. Andrew.

  Ingeborg tried to smile, but knew it had been a miserable mistake. Accepting everyone’s congratulations and best wishes felt like the first stages of labor. Painful.

  On Tuesday she donned her britches and went hunting. When she’d taken up her favorite place by the game trail, she rested her chin on her hands and closed her eyes. “Father, God,” she whispered, “why am I so afraid? I would rather meet a wild wolf than feel this way. Is it fear? Is it—what is it? What’s wrong with me? I know I love Haakan, and I believe he loves me. I should be rejoicing, yet I’m like a bear whose paw is caught in a trap. What is wrong?” The deer started and bounded back the way they’d come, crashing into the brush.

  She jerked upright. She saw their rumps going away. Today she couldn’t even hunt right!

  On the way home, she shot at a grouse and missed. At this rate they’d have to have beans for their wedding party.

  She slumped down against a tree, too tired, too frustrated to go any farther. A shadow off to the right caught her attention. Wolf had slipped into the clearing and sat at the base of another tree.

  “We’re a pair, you and I. If you were hoping for a handout, I missed.”

  He whined and lay down.

  “You’d fare better on your own. There are plenty of rabbits, but I probably couldn’t even hit one of them.”

  He rested his muzzle on his paws, his yellow eyes unblinking.

  “If it isn’t fear of being married, what is it?” The tip of his tail wagged.

  “I was afraid of you and look what it got me—a crack on the noggin and the loss of a baby. That’s what fear does for you.”

  “Well, I’m not going to be afraid anymore. If something happens to Haakan, I’ll just keep on going. God won’t leave me.” She stopped. That’s what was frightening her: those terrible losses and the depth of despair afterward. She let the tears flow. “Can I do that again, God? Would you ask that?”

  She raised tear-stained cheeks and looked up at the blue sky peeking between the leaves of the oak above her. A verse trickled through her mind like sweet water in a dry land. “And lo, I am with you always.” She repeated the verse and yet again, each time thinking on a different word. Always was key here. He would be with her always. Always meant that no matter what happened, He would be here.

  When she rose to her feet and rested the gun on her shoulder, she looked around. Wolf was gone. The sun slid on its downward trek. Cottonwood leaves whispered in the breeze.

  And like the wolf, the fear had faded away, too.

  When she got home, Joseph had just driven his team into the yard.

  “Got you a letter here from Norway.” He held out the envelope.

  “Can you stay for a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I need to get on home. See you Saturday.”

  “Thank you for swinging by.” She waved again as he trotted the team and his well-filled wagon out on the lane. With one finger, she slit open the envelope flap, careful not to rip the precious paper. Thorliff would use the inside for some of his lessons.

  “My dearest Ingeborg and all our family there. I have sad news to share with you. Gustaf has gone home to be with the Lord. It was his heart. It had been bothering him for some time. . . .” Ingeborg could read no further. She stuffed the letter in her pocket and headed for Kaaren’s house. Now there could be no wedding after all.

  What do you mean we won’t be getting married next Saturday?”

  Haakan fought to keep his voice calm and level.

  “We need to observe a time of mourning for Gustaf.” Ingeborg pointed at the letter as if that would back her up.

  Haakan rose from his chair by the table and began pacing the floor. Three steps and turn. Three steps and turn. Lord God, what do I do? He rammed his fingers through his hair, feeling like tearing it out by the handful. This woman would try the patience of a saint, and that was a title he certainly did not consider fitting for himself. When he could talk without shouting, he knelt in front of her.

  “Ingeborg, what is the date on that letter?”

  She handed it to him.

  “Just as I thought, dear one. He died three weeks ago. It would be different if we lived in Norway still and were there with all the families. But we aren’t. We’re here in Dakota Territory. ”

  “Haakan, they observe a time of mourning in this country, too. ”

  He shook his head. “I know, but it isn’t the same.” Oh, to find the words. He took her cold hands in his. “Listen, Inge, please listen with your heart. I love you, and I want to marry you. You love me, and you said you were willing to marry me. I know you’ve been struggling with all of this—”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I love you, remember? I watch you and you are not so good as you think at hiding your turmoil. I want to take the burden from you, but you wage your wars alone.” He stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs. “Yes, we grieve for Gustaf. Remember, he is . . . was Hjelmer’s far. Like you, tonight the boy grieves alone. But it is easier when we are together. I help you, and you help me, and God helps us all.” His voice cracked, and he rested his forehead on their hands.

  “What if this is God’s way of saying ‘wait’?” She removed her hand from his and began stroking his hair.

  “Ja, it could be that.” Tonight he had no strength left to fight with. Her hand felt like an angel’s wing must feel, soft yet firm and filled with love. He knew she loved him, without a doubt. “Go to sleep, my love, and we will talk again in the morning. Perhaps God will get through to one of us this night.”

  After kissing her good-night, Haakan strolled out to the barn. Inside, he heard the sound of weeping.

&
nbsp; “You told him what?” Kaaren clamped her hands on her hips.

  “That we need to observe a time of mourning for Gustaf, and we should postpone the wedding.” Ingeborg’s words came in a rush. This morning she didn’t feel half as sure of this as she had last night. “It is seemly, that’s all.”

  “That is the most . . . the most . . .” Kaaren threw her hands in the air. “I can’t believe this is you saying that. Yes, I can. You used the same argument on me when I was to marry Lars, but Carl had been gone only six months then. Ingeborg, listen to me. You wear britches because you can get more work done, and it is more comfortable. Seemly or not, you do it. You plow and plant and harvest because the work needs to be done. It is thanks to you that when we lost our husbands we did not also lose our land. Was your doing man’s work seemly? No, of course not! Is it seemly when you go hunting? No, but we surely do appreciate the results of your labors.”

  “I . . . I . . .” Ingeborg leaned her head against the back of the rocker. “All right! All right! I’ll marry Haakan on Saturday, but if anyone comes talking to me about seemly, I will send them to you.”

  “Let’s hope Mrs. Strand didn’t hear the invitation.”

  “Who cares!” Ingeborg looked up at Kaaren and tried to still the twitching at the side of her mouth. But the smile insisted on life and brought with it laughter and joy.

  “Mrs. Strand will s-s-say you are n-never s-seemly.” Kaaren could hardly talk around the laughter bubbling in her throat.

  “Wh-who c-cares.” Ingeborg wiped her eyes. “That woman will try to tell St. Peter how to run the heavenly gates.”

  Haakan stopped just inside the doorway, Andrew on his shoulders. Thorliff slipped in beside him and looked up at him. Andrew banged his fists on Haakan’s head and laughed along with his mother.

  “I take it we are getting married?” Haakan hardly dared voice the hope he felt springing in his heart.

  “Ja, if you will still have me and promise to protect me from Mrs. Strand.” Ingeborg wiped a tear from her eye. “Uff da!”

  Saturday dawned with a thunder and lightning storm that lasted just long enough for Ingeborg to think it another “no” sign, and Haakan wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away.

  But when the sun came out and the land steamed around them, they loaded all their cooked food, the new good clothes, and their carpetbags in the wagon. The drive to St. Andrew took more time than usual because of the other wagons they met on the way. But the steamy air did nothing to dampen the joy of the day, and the storm accomplished at least one good thing—it cut the dust.

  When they arrived at the white clapboard-sided church with the steeple above the front door, they discovered that some women of the church had brought flowers from their gardens to decorate. Roses and pinks, baby’s breath and delphinium, the rich colors and richer fragrances welcomed the wedding guests.

  Agnes had a crew setting up sawhorses and boards to make tables to hold the food, and off to one side another table already held an array of gifts.

  Ingeborg sat in the wagon and stared. All this for her and Haakan? Surely, there must be some mistake.

  Penny came over to the wagon and smiled up at Ingeborg. “I took some of the flowers the ladies brought and fashioned you a bouquet. It’s in the vestibule. The minister says we will start right at twelve o’clock noon if’n everybody’s here or not. If that’s all right with you, that is.”

  Haakan came around and helped Ingeborg down. “Now, you and Kaaren go change your clothes and don’t worry about any of this. Agnes has it all under control.”

  “Thank you, Penny. What a thoughtful thing to do.” Ingeborg turned to retrieve her parcels from the bed of the wagon, but Haakan was there before her. Only once before in her entire life had she been treated so . . . so . . . she couldn’t think of the word. But a picture came to mind of a man in a gray topcoat handing her into a carriage in New York. She’d always called him her New York angel, even when he found her in Fargo at the Headquarters Hotel.

  Funny, she hadn’t thought of him in months. David Jonathan Gould, wouldn’t he be pleased and happy for her? The thought made her smile. So many friends she had made on her journey. She stopped for a moment and looked around. It appeared as if many of them were either already here or on their way.

  Once inside the church, she turned to Kaaren. “I wonder how Mrs. Johnson at the hotel in Fargo is?”

  “What brought that on?” Kaaren shook out the rose-colored dress she’d folded so carefully in a quilt to keep it from wrinkling.

  “I don’t know, just thinking back, I guess. She would be glad for me.”

  “Ja, that she would. Now change your clothes, and I will button you up. Imagine Haakan being able to pick out a dress that fit so perfectly we didn’t have to alter a thing! Some men are surprising.”

  When Ingeborg was dressed, Kaaren studied her for a moment, fingertips to her bottom lip. “I know just the thing.” She left the room and returned a few moments later with several small rosebuds in pink and white. Quickly she picked the thorns off the stems and wove the blossoms into the coronet of golden hair that crowned Ingeborg’s head. “Now you are just perfect.”

  “If it takes all this fussing to make me perfect, I’d just as soon do without,” Ingeborg muttered, but when she looked in the full-length mirror on the wall, she caught her breath. Was that really her? But when she grasped the cheek she saw in the mirror between two fingers and pinched, it was she who felt the pain.

  “Where are Andrew and Thorliff?”

  “Right down front with Penny and Agnes so they won’t miss a thing.”

  The organ began to play, and a hush fell over the gathering. Kaaren prodded Ingeborg until she stood by the door. “Now, Hjelmer is right outside to walk down the aisle with you. Haakan and Lars will be up front like we said. You just come when you are ready.”

  Ingeborg nodded. Getting married in Norway had been nothing like this. She and Roald just went and stood before the minister. He said the vows, and it was over.

  Kaaren turned back and hugged her. “You’ll be fine. It’s only our friends and family out there. Now, come on.” She stepped through the door, nodded at Hjelmer who looked uncomfortable in a too-tight jacket, and walked down the aisle as if she did this every day of the week.

  Ingeborg squared her shoulders, put her hand through Hjelmer’s arm and swallowed. “Let’s go.”

  The organ played louder, all the people stood up, and Ingeborg walked down the aisle, trying hard to smile around quivering lips.

  Tears glittered in Haakan’s eyes. The smile he sent her wobbled at the corners.

  Ingeborg ignored the tear that spilled out and stepped forward to take Haakan’s arm. Together they turned toward the minister. The Norwegian words rolled out over the congregation, and both of them answered in all the right places, Haakan’s voice deep and sure.

  “I, Haakan Howard Bjorklund, take thee, Ingeborg Bjorklund, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

  Ingeborg repeated her vows after the minister, her “I do.” ringing sure and true.

  The pastor raised his hand one final time. “The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and give thee his peace. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” He smiled at the two of them. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Haakan placed his hands on either side of Ingeborg’s face as if she were bone china of the most fragile kind. His lips rested on hers for only a moment, but the joy of it seared clear to her heart. They turned and faced the gathering, and with the organ playing a triumphant march, they walked back up the aisle and out into the sunshine.

  Even Mrs. Strand gossiping behind her hand couldn’t dim the sun for Ingeborg. After everyone ate their fill, Joseph and another guest took out their fiddles, and the dancing began. They stopped only long enough for the bride and groom to open their gifts: a pig in a crate, a braided rag rug, a carved box for small keepsakes, and the one thing that m
ade Ingeborg cry—a wedding-ring quilt, pieced by Agnes and the other women of the area. The pieces looked like jewels spread on a light background.

  “How did you . . . when . . . oh, this is so lovely. I’ve never had anything so nice.” Ingeborg wiped the tears away before they dripped on her dress.

  “We been burning the midnight oil, that’s for certain,” Agnes said, fingering the design. “It did turn out mighty pretty, didn’t it?” She leaned close so Ingeborg could hear her whisper. “I’m thinking we better start another one right away.” She glanced over to Penny and Hjelmer, who were dancing as if their feet had wings.

  Ingeborg turned and noticed someone else looking at the dancing couple. A shudder ran through her at the sight of the girl’s face. Mary Ruth Strand was not a happy young woman.

  When the steam whistle of the boat blew, Haakan hustled her toward the wagon. Ingeborg kissed Thorliff good-bye and gave Andrew one last squeeze. “We’ll be home soon. You be good for Tante Kaaren, now.”

  Thorliff gave her a disgusted look. “Mor, we’re always good.” He started back to his friends. “Come home soon.”

  “We will.” After they had waved good-bye to everyone, Lars drove them to the landing.

  “You two have a good time now and don’t worry about anything.”

  Taking the valises in one hand, Haakan put the other under Ingeborg’s arm. “Come, wife, or the boat will leave without us.”

  Ingeborg hesitated when she stepped on the dock. She looked over her shoulder once and then strode up the gangplank.

  If the success of the wedding trip were to be measured by the amount of things purchased, theirs was successful beyond measure. If laughter were the key, all locks were opened, and if love were the final yardstick, the trip reached clear to the moon. Or so Haakan said as the steamboat neared St. Andrew again.

  “Half the baggage on this boat belongs to us,” he pretended to mutter.

  “I told you to quit spending money a long time ago. We didn’t need all this now.”

  “We don’t have it all. I need to go back and get the horses and cows.”